


What Is Required

by DeiStarr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Bottom Harry, Drarry, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, HP: EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Protagonist, Male Slash, Mpreg, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post - Deathly Hallows, Second War with Voldemort, Slash, Students, Switching, Top Draco, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiStarr/pseuds/DeiStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Room of Requirement provides what is required; what is needed. During eighth year Harry and Draco want a place to duel without getting caught and expelled. What they need is something quite different. The Room makes sure they get it. EWE. </p><p>First chapter can be read as a stand-alone; was continued by popular demand on FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:**  What Is Required

 **Disclaimer:**  These slutty little whores are actually poor J.K.R.'s little children. Sorry, Jo. I corrupted their innocence.

 **Rating:**  R. M. NC-17.

 **Pairing:** Harry/Draco

 **Warnings:** Language. Sex. Rimming. You know, the usual. *coughs and pretends rimming is her usual*

 **Summary:** The Room of Requirement provides what is required; what is needed. During eighth year Harry and Draco  _want_  a place to duel without getting caught and expelled. What they  _need_  is something quite different. The Room makes sure they get it.

 **A/N:**  I will write a sequel if enough people follow this one-shot. Meaning, more than ten. Or maybe one. Hell, if you leave a review asking me for a sequel, odds are I'm going to write one. I have a hard time saying no.

* * *

* * *

"I'll get you for this, Malfoy!"

"You're dead, Potter!"

The boys launched themselves at each other, tussling on the floor, throwing and dodging punches and insults.

"Break it up! Both of you, now!" A bout of magic caused the two boys to fly apart, where they hung in the air, looking guiltily at the Headmistress.

"Alright, that's enough, both of you!" Headmistress McGonagall glared at them, her wand still outstretched, as if daring them to defy her. Both shrank from her gaze but still shot one another venomous looks. She released them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, in my office.  _At once!"_

The boys grudgingly followed the headmistress to her office. She wasted no time telling them what they were there for – as if either of them might have any doubt.

"There is to be no more of this childish fighting between two grown men in my school. Merlin knows you'd think we've seen enough fighting to last us the rest of our lives; but you will not do it on school property, is that understood?"

The boys nodded mutely.

"To impress upon you the seriousness with which I regard this matter, I regret to inform you that if either or both of you are caught fighting or instigating again, it will mean expulsion."

Harry blanched. He didn't look at Malfoy, but he imagined the blond had a similar reaction.  _Expulsion… fuck, she's serious._ He ran a hand through his messy black hair, and felt a shiver of alarm shoot through him. How the hell was he supposed to make it to the end of the term without hexing or otherwise pounding the living crap out of his nemesis? The git's very existence begged for it.

Malfoy appeared to be wrestling with similar thoughts, Harry noticed.  _At least it's not just me who's going to have a hard time with it,_  Harry thought, with grim satisfaction.

Avoiding Malfoy seemed like the only option. However avoiding Malfoy was easier said than done. The Slytherin was everywhere. He even had the nerve to be running through an abandoned corridor and come careening into Harry, knocking them both down. Harry might not have been looking, but Malfoy had been going way too fast. It was all his fault, of course.

"Watch where you're going; or does saving the world excuse you from common courtesy?" Malfoy's voice dripped with sarcasm as he picked up his books. His grey eyes flashed with annoyance, and his perfect blond hair was slightly mussed.

"You watch where you're going, Malfoy; or does being born with a silver spoon stuck up your arse make you too good for that?" taunted Harry. His green eyes bored into Malfoy's grey ones as if to challenge him. Malfoy couldn't resist a challenge.

"Wanker!"

"Berk!"

"Stupid speccy git!"

Harry opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He advanced on Malfoy, who raised his fists, preparing to defend himself, although he glanced nervously around the corridor as he did. Fortunately it was empty save for them.

"Room of Requirement, Malfoy," Harry spat in a low voice, leaning over the blond as much as he could with the height disadvantage. "Tonight at midnight. You and me."

Malfoy licked his lips, glancing at Harry's mouth as the words flowed out of it like poison. When Harry finished he gaped a little. "Potter, what –" he started in a strangled tone of voice.

"Be there. We settle this," Harry added, raising a fist for good measure.

Malfoy looked unsure, and Harry taunted him. "Scared, Malfoy?" Malfoy flinched and Harry remembered Crabbe and felt like a heel. But he said nothing and Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not a coward, Potter."

"Then you'll be there, yeah?"

Malfoy licked his lips again, and nodded. "Yeah," he managed in a breathy tone. "Alright."

Harry dropped his fist and stalked off. He thought to himself,  _Tonight at midnight,_  and felt almost giddy. He felt heat rush through his body, tingling in his extremities – including his prick. He felt a sudden urge to wank, but forced himself to think of McGonagall in a bikini to make it go away as he hurried to class.

Dinner seemed to drag on forever. Harry was impatient, waiting for midnight, and it didn't help that Ron was making his usual not-so-subtle hints that Harry and Ginny ought to pull their act together and get back together. After a while Ginny had had enough.

"I can't believe you, Ron Weasley!" she hissed, pushing the bench back and standing so abruptly it almost fell over, held in place only by the weight of the other students sitting on it. "You need to just grow up and accept that I'm a big girl; fully capable of making my own decisions! Harry and I aren't together anymore because Harry doesn't want to be with me and I don't want to be with Harry!" she added, only half-truthfully, and Harry winced. "So just leave it! You hear me?  _Leave. It."_

She stormed off, and Harry got up silently to go after her. He felt horrible. She had loved him, dreamed of marrying him and having children together. When he sat down with her after the war and explained that he loved her dearly, as a sister and that would never change, she was so hurt. She had begged and pleaded with him to "just try" with her, hoping she could somehow change his mind.

In the end, he'd been forced to admit to her that he was afraid he might like boys instead of girls, and that was the main reason he couldn't be with her. She had raged and screamed in frustrated fury, and he had borne it. After her initial shock had subsided, she had rallied and been usual Ginny – sweet, irrepressible, brave, and loyal to a fault.

They sat and talked for a long while about his sexuality in a non-judgemental manner, for which he was exceedingly grateful. She had been full of curiosity and questions, and honestly had been the biggest help to him he could have imagined. She was the only one he'd confided in thus far, and she took the honour seriously. She told him he could always confide in her, until – and after – he was ready to tell other people. She joked that if he ever needed any help "Man-hunting" that he knew where to go to get it. Sometimes she would tease him about attractive boys, especially if she caught him ogling.

Still, every once in a while he would catch her looking at him with longing in her eyes, though she would quickly look away and the longing would disappear behind a mask of friendliness.

Ginny Weasley was, all in all, a remarkable young woman, and Harry almost wished he weren't gay sometimes just so he could sweep her off her feet and give her the happy ending she wanted. As it was, he simply wished her luck, and hoped desperately that a deserving young man would come along soon enough and charm her into forgetting him completely.

He found her huddled in an alcove behind a tapestry, her favourite hiding spot. "Gin?" he ventured tentatively. "You wanna talk about it?" He was well aware how ludacris it was for him to be offering to comfort her when he was half the reason she was upset, but due to his secret her options at being comforted were limited.

She sniffed. "Not really."

He hesitated. "Should I go?"

She laughed. "For once it's not you, actually."

He felt relieved, though his heart constricted at the thought of this brave girl having any additional troubles. He sat next to her. "So what do you want to do?"

"Tell me something interesting." She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he thought a moment.

"I'm meeting Draco Malfoy in the Room of Requirement tonight," he offered. Ginny whipped her head around, staring him in the eyes, wide with shock. Her mouth hung open in a little "oh". Harry laughed, and swatted her shoulder. "Not like that! We're dueling." He couldn't help sounding smug.

"Oh, ok." She looked relieved. "Cause, Harry, I was going to say, if you threw me over only to take up with Draco Malfoy…" She shook her head. "Actually, it would make an odd kind of sense." She looked thoughtful and he swatted her again.

"Twerp," he said. Ginny just laughed.

She chewed her lip for a moment then blurted, "Michael wants to try again."

It took Harry a few minutes to understand what she meant. He was blinking and trying to figure out who 'Michael' was and what he could want to try again when Ginny huffed and said, "Michael Corner." Then the  _Lumos_  winked on and he got it.

"What did you say to him?"

"I said I'd think about it."

"Do you have feelings for him?" He wasn't sure how he should feel about this; on the one hand he wanted Ginny to find someone, on the other hand, he didn't want her being with someone just for the sake of not being alone. Somehow that seemed even lonelier than actually being alone.

"I don't know. Sort of. Maybe. Yes." She hesitated. "He was my first kiss, my first, well,  _everything_." She flushed. "First shag. That kind of thing stays with a girl, you know?" Harry was a little surprised, as they'd never gotten to that point in their relationship; but then, Ginny did say after she learned of his sexual orientation that she'd made advances and he'd always spurned them. He honestly hadn't noticed.

"Well," he said, trying to think of the best advice to give. "If you think it could work, and you have feelings for him, there's no reason not to give it a try. But if you think about why you broke up, and it might become an issue again, you might want to reconsider."

"You were the real reason we broke up," she said in a small voice. "Because I was crazy about you and he could tell. I hurt him. If we try again it's on the condition that I not be your friend anymore. At least, not until he feels confident that I'm over you."

"Oh." Harry swallowed. He didn't know what he'd do without her friendship, but felt he had no place to make the choice for her. He deprived her of what she really wanted – a relationship with him – so how could he stand in the way of her having a relationship with someone else?

"That's part of why it upsets me so much when Ron goes on and on about you and me… I'm never going to be able to be with anyone else because every guy will think I'm still pining for you." She sighed. "I just want to move  _on_."

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I know, Gin. I hope you get a happy-ever-after too, you know that. You do what you need to to be happy."

She gave him a sad smile, and leaned into the half-hug. He tightened his grip and they sat in silence for a while before Ginny got up and murmured about heading for the common room. Harry followed, and decided to study on his bed for the rest of the evening.

He couldn`t wait for midnight. He set up an alarm – and silencing charms so it wouldn`t bother anyone else –just in case he fell asleep before it was time to go. He was too excited to sleep. It never occurred to him that there was anything unusual about his obsession with fighting Malfoy. It was simply necessary for him.

Finally, midnight was close enough that he could leave. He slipped on his invisibility cloak, grabbed the Marauder's Map, and headed out to wait for Malfoy at the Room of Requirement.

He waited for a while.

"You showed." Harry hoped the relief didn't show in his voice. The Slytherin was ten minutes late, and Harry had begun to think he'd backed out. He slid the invisibility cloak off, not caring that he was demonstrating it to the Slytherin, since he already knew about it from sixth year.

"Of course I showed, Potter; you're giving me the opportunity to beat you senseless without any interference. Why wouldn't I?" Malfoy drawled, affecting not to be uneasy about the Room. He smirked. "You didn't miss me, now Potter, did you?"

Harry snorted. "I just figured a cowardly little ferret like you would run away from a fair fight."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Who said anything about fair? There's me," he pointed to himself, "And there's you." He gestured to Harry. "That's already an unfair fight." He smirked again.

"True, Malfoy, should I give you a handicap?"

"What are you on about, Potter?" Malfoy gave him a look that suggested he had three heads.

Harry sighed. "Never mind; muggle saying." Malfoy snorted. "Are we going to stand here and snipe at each other all night or are we going to go and work it out like we planned?"

Malfoy scowled but nodded. "Open her up, Potter."

"Both of us," Harry said. At Malfoy's questioning look he huffed in annoyance and explained. "If I do it, the room will conform to my expectations, and you'll have a conniption about everything you dislike or pretend to dislike just for the sake of being disagreeable. Then when I win you'll try to blame it on the room giving me an unfair advantage. So we  _both_  pace, we  _both_  focus our thoughts, and the room should give us something that suits both of our requirements."

Malfoy scowled again. "You won't win, Potter," he said, but he didn't disagree. He and Harry began to pace side by side; an odd feeling, really, walking in step with his nemesis.

 _We need a place to work out all the tension between us,_  Harry thought.  _We need a place where we can get it out of our systems without being interrupted or interfered with in any way. We need a place that will not be accessible to anyone else for as long as we need it to finish this. I don't want to leave until we've gotten everything out of our systems._

The big double doors appeared in front of them. They stopped, and Malfoy drew in a sharp, hitching breath. Harry pretended not to notice.

He pushed open the door and they walked inside. They blinked in the dark, and the door swung shut behind them. It was pitch black inside.

 _"Lumos._ " Harry held his wand up and Draco echoed his words, holding his aloft as well. They both blinked in confusion.

The room was small. It was shaped like the inside of a tower turret and had faux windows along the half of the room opposite them. But that wasn't what held their attention.

No, in the center of the room, taking up nearly all the space, was a large, four-poster bed, swathed in red curtains and topped with red blankets. There was a bedside drawer beside it, on the side closest to them, and it had an unlit lantern on top of it.

"What the hell, Potter?"

Harry turned to find the Slytherin glaring at him in fury.

"Is this some sick joke?"

Harry glared right back. "Maybe the Room's broken, Malfoy. The Fiendfyre can't have done it any good." He felt a surge of satisfaction at the way the blond flinched from his words. "Either that or you really wanted some place to sleep."

"Me?  _Me_?" squeaked Malfoy, outraged. "I assure you, Potter, whilst pacing I thought of nothing but how I'd love to pound you into the ground."

"And all I thought of was how I needed a place where we could work out all the tension between us without interruptions or interference," Harry replied coldly.

Malfoy glared at him once more, and turned to leave. Then stood still staring slack-jawed at the wall behind them. It was solid stone, with no door in sight. In fact, there seemed to be no exits or entrances to the room at all.

"What in Merlin's name –" began Malfoy. He began frantically trying for a way out. Harry joined him. Nothing they tried worked. Spells, asking the Room; nothing worked.

"We can't leave," said Malfoy in horror. "Why can't we leave?" Harry went white as a sheet.

"Oh, Godric, no. When we were pacing, I thought… I thought that I didn't want us to leave until we'd gotten everything out of our systems," he whispered, horrified

Malfoy turned on him, furious. "Oh really? Like this, Potter?" He leapt on Harry, knocking him to the ground, where he straddled him and began to pummel him with his fists, pounding him mercilessly. Harry tried to fight back, but pure rage gave Malfoy the upper hand.

Realising the futility of struggling, he went limp, lying still and waiting for Malfoy to calm down, with his arms crossed over his face protectively. He was angry; angrier than he'd ever been, feeling helpless and furious that Malfoy had reduced him to this. As Malfoy continued to swing his fists Harry wondered how many broken bones he'd have by the end of it and if he'd end up unconscious. He disliked that idea intensely.

After a little while Malfoy collected himself and stopped. Apparently there was no satisfaction in beating a victim who wouldn't fight back. He rose, shaking. He cast a furtive, hopeful glance at the expanse of wall, but there was still no door. He turned and shot Potter a glare.

"Thanks to you, we're stuck here!"

Harry didn't respond. He was too busy attempting to pick himself up off the floor. He tried to assess the damage. Everything hurt. It hurt so bad he didn't want to move. But staying down felt like defeat and he'd already been humiliated by Malfoy enough for one day.

Malfoy noticed his predicament and smirked.

"What's the matter, Potty?" he sneered. "Feeling a little weak, are you? The  _Hero_ ," he spat the word, "Of the wizarding world can't even get up off the floor?"

Malfoy's words proved to be just the drive Harry needed to pull himself to his feet. He staggered, and clutched the bedside drawer for balance. The Room swayed around him and his vision greyed. He swallowed convulsively and silently begged Merlin not to let him pass out. If he fainted in front of Malfoy he'd never live it down. He mentally cursed at being locked away from the infirmary; he had a feeling he had a mild concussion.

Malfoy was studying the Room, pacing in front of the wall, running his fingers along the stone.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Merlin save us, we're really trapped in here." He walked numbly over to the bed and sat down on it, putting his head in his hands.

Harry wanted to lie down but he was afraid to let go of the dresser long enough to traverse the three or four small steps it would take to reach the bed. It wasn't like he could ask Malfoy for help. He resented Malfoy for using the bed when he needed it.

"Shove over, Malfoy," he grunted, deciding to have a go at making it to the bed. Malfoy just ignored him.

He let go of the dresser and almost fell; but somehow managed to right himself. He stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it. And onto Malfoy.

Malfoy let out a surprised yelp as Harry came crashing down on him, knocking him over. Harry was lying sprawled on top of him, and he couldn't help thinking that the blond made a lovely pillow.

"What the fuck, Potter?" Malfoy shrieked. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"S'your fault, you git," Harry mumbled into his neck. "I can't get up." Malfoy tried to push him away, butb Harry was dead weight, and his Quidditch toned body was deceptively muscular, for all that he looked so slender and lithe. Malfoy succeeded only in getting lifting his face up enough so that he could look into Harry's eyes. Whatever he saw there gave him pause. He stopped trying to push Harry away, and his eyes widened. He suddenly looked frightened. Harry had a hard time registering it though. His eyelids fluttered, and his head drooped.

"Potter, look at me," Malfoy said sharply. "Dammit, Potter,  _look at me!_  Do you want to die, you idiot?"

"Wanna sleep," murmured Harry. "Uh-cause 'm tired." He closed his eyes, feeling sleep begin to claim him. Malfoy shook him, hard.

"Salazar damn you, Potter," he roared. "Stay awake!"

Harry was roused enough to communicate once more. "Why?" he asked petulantly.

"Because your pupils are different sizes and unfocused – more than usual, anyway – and you've probably got a concussion." Harry noted that even when worried Malfoy still managed to get a jab in at him. It should have made him angry but instead he felt…  _happy_. Important. Like being insulted by Malfoy signified that he mattered to the blond. It was stupid and crazy and if Harry was in his right mind it never would have happened, but Harry suddenly became very aware of Malfoy's body and its proximity to his own. He was acutely conscious of the way they laid together, with him overlapping Malfoy and pressing against him, and Malfoy was actually a really fit bloke despite being a complete berk, and – oh god! – he was going to get hard. Get hard while he was lying on top of Malfoy, and there was no way the prat wouldn't feel  _that_.

He tried to get up, and only proceeded to cause friction between their groins as his hips ground against Malfoy's, searching for purchase. He bit his lip to keep from moaning and thought of Snape in lingerie. He pending erection quelled, he stopped struggling, flopped his head down and whimpered. "Can't get up," he mroaned defeatedly.

Malfoy shifted, and with his current hyper-awareness of Malfoy's body Harry noticed something he might not have otherwise – Malfoy had not been unaffected by the accidental frotting. There was a hardness jutting into his hip, and for a moment, he wished he weren't so dizzy so he could do something about it. His head was pounding so hard that it was amazing he was able to think about sex, but he was a healthy teenage boy who'd gone just a little too long without wanking and Malfoy – though Harry would die before admitting it to him – was about as fit as they come. So maybe not that surprising.

He started to fade out of awareness, and was vaguely glad that the fog had taken his mind off of… whatever it was he had been trying not to think about.

* * *

Draco glanced at Potter, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth. He couldn't stand the git, but he didn't want him  _dead_. The idea of a dead Potter made something ache in his chest; something that he had locked up tight when he was eleven years old and stubbornly refused to take it out and examine it or acknowledge its existence. It had driven him to lie when the Snatchers brought Potter to the Manor, and right now it was screaming at him, refusing to be ignored.

He pretended that the idea of Potter dying didn't make him feel like the world would end with him.

He pretended that the knowledge that he had been the one to inflict these wounds didn't flood him with guilt and remorse.

He pretended that when Potter had accidentally rutted against him while trying to get up, he hadn't been completely and utterly aroused by it; that he wasn't still impossibly hard, so hard Potter had to have noticed if he weren't so out of it, and that he wasn't desperately aware of Potter's body and the fact that they were alone on a bed in a Room where no one could interrupt them.

Draco was good at pretending. He did it a lot.

He wished desperately that he could get out from under Potter before his balls exploded.

He thought of the books he'd read in preparation for life after Hogwarts, and wondered if some of the spells he'd learned would make any difference. If they might help. He glanced at Potter, whose face was covered in bruises and who was sporting a split lip and a black eye. Draco imagined the rest of him looked just as awful. It had been a thorough beating. He cleared his throat.

"I know a few healing spells," he said, slowly. "I want to be a healer after… After." He chewed his bottom lip, and Potter started to drift off again. Draco slapped him. "Stay awake, Potter. I've only read the theory; never done these spells before, but you need help and there's no other way right now. You can't wait till we get out of here; who knows how long that will take? So for now, just stay awake let me try, okay?"

Potter tried to nod but found his head just lolled when he did that. "Mmmk," he managed.

Draco maneuvered until he was able to grab his wand, and he levitated Potter off of him. He took a deep breath, raised his wand, and pointed it at Potter. The irony of finally having his nemesis at his mercy at the end of his wand and raising it to help rather than harm was not lost on him. He aimed at Potter's head.

" _Repareo,"_  he whispered, using the alternate version of  _Reparifors_  he'd read about which, unlike its counterpart, healed injuries caused by non-magical means. It could not heal injuries caused by magic, but considering he hadn't hexed Potter, that was fine. He just hoped it was enough to counter the concussion.

Potter jerked his head back and whimpered brokenly, thrashing slightly under the onslaught of purplish-white light that shot at his head. It continued for a few moments, then the light faded and he went limp. Draco was nervous, waiting to see what the effect had been. "Potter?"

Potter sat up groggily, and shot Draco a crooked smile that made his heart skip a beat. "At least I can move, now," he said. "Thanks." He started to move over, but Draco noticed him flinching. His face was still a mess. "My head still hurts, but it's not as bad," he offered.

"Hang on," he said, putting a hand on Potter's arm, who jerked in surprise and stared at him. "Let me help you." He then proceeded to use Episky on each of Potter's cuts and scrapes.

"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?" Potter regarded him carefully. "I get why you fixed my concussion; if you hadn't and I died you would have gone to Azkaban for murder." Draco truthfully hadn't thought of that until the moment Potter said it, and his shock must have shown on his face because Potter hesitated and frowned slightly. "That is why you saved me, right?"

"Of course, Potter; why else would I?" He said it with a bravado he did not feel.

"I don't know, Malfoy," Potter said, staring at him. "You tell me."

"Honestly, Potter, do you think I care if you live or die?"

Potter looked stung, and Draco wished he could take his words back. Instead he changed the subject.

"If we just had some potions and ointments here, I could take care of those bruises," he said, frowning. On a sudden impulse he slipped off the bed and opened the top drawer of the bedside drawer. He let out a triumphant cry. Pulling out a couple of vials and a jar, he climbed back onto the bed, to where Potter sat. He offered one of the vials. "Headache potion," he said, and Potter's relieved smile nearly split his face. He gulped the potion down gratefully. Draco then proceeded to rub in the ointment from the jar he'd retrieved. As he massaged it into the skin, Potter's face looked blissful, his eyes closed and head tilted back. Draco did not find it sexy in the least. No, sir. He did  _not_. Malfoys did not come undone because of messy-headed speccy gits.

When he began massaging the ointment over the bruises on Potter's temples the brunet let out a moan, then flushed deeply. Prettily, Draco thought. "Sorry," Potter muttered. "It's just… I still have a headache, and it feels so good." He blushed deeper. "You don't have to do this. I could put it on myself…"

Draco laughed. "You'd make a mess of it. There aren't any mirrors in here, so you wouldn't even be able to see where to put it." He shrugged. "I want to be a healer, I might as well get used to doing things like this." Harry stared. It was so unlike everything he thought he knew about Draco Malfoy that he was caught completely off-guard. Draco just smirked and quirked a brow at him.

"Unable to believe I'd ever lower myself to such plebeian tasks?"

"Something like that."

"I want to help people." Draco spoke softly, admitting something he hadn't told anyone else. Why he would tell Potter was beyond him, yet here he was, jabbering it out. "I had to see a mind healer after the war. After the trials. That was one of the terms of my release. She really helped me. And I thought… I wanted to help people like she helped me." He glanced down. "I don't have the temperament to be a mind healer, and with the dark mark few people would be willing to open up to me about personal things, anyway. Then I realised that other kinds of healers, they're just as important. And I want to help people." He shrugged. Potter was silent, looking like he was thinking deeply. He was also staring at Draco as though he had never seen him before; as if he were some new species of flobberworm and he couldn't stop staring.

He continued with his massaging the ointment into Potter's temples, and Potter bit his lips in an effort to keep silent that resulted in little whimpers escaping that made Draco's trousers awfully tight. He finished massaging the ointment in, restoring Potter's face to its natural beauty.

For Potter was beautiful, Draco realised with a start. His hair looked like he'd just been rather thoroughly shagged, his eyes were so green they seemed to glow with inner light, his features masculine and not entirely unrefined, and his body tan and fit from years of Quidditch. He was smaller than Draco, a good four inches shorter, and he was muscular despite his slender frame. He looked somehow frail, yet Draco knew that he was made of tougher stuff than Draco was himself.

"Unbutton your shirt, Potter," he said once he was done with Potter's face. Potter's eyes grew as round as saucers and Draco thought it a wonder they didn't fall out of his head.

"Are you – are you trying to seduce me?" he asked in a high pitched voice,

"Merlin, no, Potter," he grumbled, trying to ignore his insistent cock perking to attention at the mention of seducing Potter; coupled with the knowledge that Potter would soon open his shirt for Draco, and in the interests of healing him properly Draco was going to have to touch his bare skin.

He shivered.

"I need you to open your shirt so I can get at your chest and abdomen," he instructed, brandishing the ointment he'd used on Potter's face. He pretended that he was not aroused or excited in the least about getting to peak underneath Potter's shirt.

"Oh," said Harry. He hesitated, and nodded, fumbling with his buttons. After a few minutes, Draco grabbed his hand.

"Let me," he breathed, and he didn't care if he sounded aroused.

Harry gazed into his slate-grey eyes, and studied him a moment. He seemed content with whatever it was that he found there. The he moved his hands away. "Go ahead." He looked up at Draco, and his eyes sparked with that challenging light like always, but this time he had that adorable crooked grin on his face and it was directed at him. Draco felt himself melting, and didn't really care all that much anymore that it was unbecoming of a Malfoy.

He willed his fingers not to shake as he slowly undid the buttons on Potter's shirt. He pushed it out of the way, leaving it hanging off of Potter's shoulders as he began his ministrations to Potter's chest and abdomen. Using his fingers he massaged the ointment in.

Somehow this was more tender; more intimate than treating Potter's face had been. As he trailed his hands over the toned torso of his nemesis, he heard Potter's sharp intakes of breath, and soft, whimpering exhales, and he could see, when he looked closely, that Potter was as hard as he was. And suddenly, it didn't matter that he was a Malfoy, and this just wasn't  _done._  It didn't matter that he and Potter were supposed to be enemies who'd hex each other as soon as look at each other, or that they'd come to this room in the first place to fight. He wanted Potter, and Potter wanted him.

And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

With a growl he lunged forward and captured Potters lips in a frenzied, desperate kiss. He poured eight years of wanting, of longing, of  _needing_  into that kiss, and Potter gasped beneath the onslaught. Draco took the opportunity to slide his tongue in and plunder Potter's mouth. He wouldn't be satisfied until he had licked every inch, explored every crevice and crease. He wanted to worship Potter's body.

Potter was making low, needy sounds and was frantically tearing at his shirt; trying to undo the buttons without breaking their kiss. When he finally freed the last of the buttons, he threw his arms around Draco's neck, pulling him close, deepening the kiss.

With another growl, Draco tried to maneuver Potter onto the middle of the bed without breaking the kiss. The blanket was twisting around them as they scooted over so Draco finally broke the kiss, seized it and shoved it to the end of the bed. Potter took off his glasses and tossed them onto the nightstand. He turned his attention back to Potter, pushing him down as he caught his mouth again in a bruising kiss. He nipped and sucked and licked and Potter's moans and whimpers were heady. He may have let out some noises of his own, though he'd never admit it later.

Potter twined his arms back around Draco's neck, and Draco shoved the flap of his shirt to the side, trailing his hands up and down the lightly muscled torso, ghosting his fingers here, seizing the flesh in a grip hard enough to bruise there. He was half lying between Potter's legs, and Potter hooked a leg around his hip and pulled him closer to gain friction against their straining erections.

Draco groaned at the sensation, but it wasn't enough. They were still wearing their trousers, their shirts were still half on – they hadn't even taken off their ties yet. Although Draco kind of liked that part; it seemed a little kinky.

With a moan of frustration he broke the kiss again. Potter let out a low whine and tried to pull him back but he rasped, "Clothes. Off." Potter immediately divested himself of his shirt and went to pull off the tie but Draco stopped him.

"Leave it," he ordered. "The ties stay." Potter laughed, and began fumbling with the button on his trousers. Draco made short work of his shirt and trousers, and was finally left in nothing but his black silk pants. Potter had stripped completely, and Draco stared hungrily. His cock was long and red, thick and full. It was curved just a little bit, and precome was leaking from the tip. Draco dove for it, sticking his tongue out to taste it, to taste Potter. Potter gasped as Draco swirled his tongue around the head of his prick and tongued the slit.

"Fuck, Merlin! Fuck! Draco!" he cried, and Draco felt a heady rush at hearing his given name from Potter's lips. Harry's lips.

Harry. It hit him like a bludger to the head at that moment, that he was well and truly fucked. To Harry, this might just be a one-off. Something to forget about and go about his life without ever needing to think about it again. And if that was the case – which, Draco had to admit to himself, it truly was; Harry Potter would never want more with him than that – Draco would be crushed. Like a  _Reducto_  to the heart, he would be broken. For eight years he'd loved the speccy git, and had done everything in his power to deny it. Since he couldn't have him, he wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. But what they were doing was crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Draco could never go back to the way things were, no matter how much he might want to. And he didn't want to. He wanted Harry. He wanted Harry to hold him and kiss him and whisper sweet nothings and promise him forever. If Draco could have stopped then and saved himself the heartache, he would have. But he was already too far gone. The dam had burst; the floodgates were opened. He couldn't hide from his feelings for the hero any longer.

At that moment, as all these thoughts rushed through his mind, a determination rose up within him that he was going to make this night  _count_. If this was all he was going to get, he was damn well going to milk it for every drop it was worth.

He stopped his attentions to Harry's cock – which led Harry to growl and let loose an oath, but he laughed and caught Harry in a kiss. Harry eagerly opened his mouth to Draco, teasing right back with his own tongue, meeting Draco lick for lick, stroke for stoke. Draco slithered out of his pants, and settled between Harry's legs. As their erections brushed both boys groaned loudly. They ground against one another, reveling in the feel of it, the touch of skin on skin.

Draco broke away from the kiss to pepper Harry's neck with soft kisses, alternating with biting and sucking. Harry mewled.

"I want to fuck you," said Draco, right before he latched on to Harry's pulse point, and he waited, waited for Harry to tell him no; that this was too far. Instead Harry just gasped and said, "Godric, Draco, yes!"

He pulled away – which left Harry making indignant sounds at him – and murmured, "Patience, love," silencing Harry with another gentle kiss. He got up and hurried to the nightstand, opening the drawers. Sure enough, there was lube in there.

Lube secured, Draco turned back to the bed, and stood for a moment, staring at Harry, spread out naked and wanton on the sheets. He allowed himself to drink in the sight; to memorize every detail. Then he climbed back in between Harry's legs – which Harry spread wide open for him in the most wanton, eager way – and Draco began dusting feather-light kisses all across his body. Harry squirmed and moaned. "Draco," he said breathlessly. "Need… to feel you… Want you…" the sentence cut off in a gasp, as Draco lowered himself to Harry's entrance and flicked it with his tongue. He lifted Harry's legs up over his shoulders, and spread his cheeks, then delved down, lapping at Harry's hole eagerly as he listened to Harry come undone.

He teased the puckered ring of muscle with his tongue, licking it and pressing slightly inside of it with firm, insistent strokes. He gently swirled his tongue around the edge of Harry's entrance, flicking and twisting his tongue to tease Harry and drive him mad.

Judging from the litany of, "Oh  _fuck!_  Merlin, Godric, Merlin,  _fuck!_  Draco, fuck! Fuck! Draco!" that he was keeping up, Draco was doing a very good job. Harry lay there with his head thrown back, his eyes shut, and pleasure washing over his face in waves. Draco's only regret was that his position didn't afford him a better view.

He began tonguing the hole, first little strokes, but gradually getting deeper and harder until he was tongue-fucking the brunet and Harry's desperate babbling had lost all semblance of coherency. He tongued the other boy mercilessly, enjoying the way Harry was grinding his arse back into Draco's face and making animalist cries of need and desire.

He stopped only to go back to the litany of teasing motions of licking, swirling, and flicking that had Harry mewling in protest and eagerly thrusting back for more. He tongued the brunet again, enjoying the way Harry shuddered and how ragged gasps tore from his throat; no words, half-strangled cries and desperate gasps for air were all he could manage.

Then Draco stopped. Harry cried out, a disappointed sound as he lifted his head and Draco chuckled. He poured some lube onto his fingers and rubbed them to warm it, then inserted a finger gently into Harry's loosened hole. Harry made a choking sound of approval and Draco twisted the finger around, pumping it in and out even as Harry thrust down with his hips.

Draco added the second finger, and Harry's breath caught. Draco was gentle, and cautious, not wanting to spook Harry. "Just relax love," he reminded him, smiling, and Harry did. He began scissoring his fingers, and hunting for the little bundle of nerves inside Harry that would make him see stars.

Draco swore to himself that no matter what it took, Harry would never be able to forget this; to forget him, or being with him. He focused entirely on Harry, and on his pleasure, ignoring his own throbbing erection and forcing himself to draw it out, take it slow, make it last. To make it as good as possible for Harry.

Then he felt the little nub underneath his fingers and pressed against it, hard. Harry arched his back and screamed. For a moment Draco was afraid he'd been too rough, and started to withdraw, but Harry grabbed him and held him in place. "More," he rasped. "Godric, please, Draco, more."

Draco smirked and began torturing his love – for that's what Harry was, to him, regardless of what he was to Harry – with his fingers as he had with his tongue. Keeping him from going too near the edge, yet pushing him towards it just enough to bring him to the brink of madness.

He added the third finger, moving slowly to allow Harry time to adjust to the additional intrusion, then thrusting his fingers faster, deeper; twisting them and scissoring them out to stretch the brunet as much as he could.

"Draco, please!" cried Harry, his voice hoarse. "Please, Draco; I need you! I need you inside me!" Draco swallowed convulsively, closing his eyes, and picturing McGonagall in a tutu. It dampened his desire down enough that he knew he'd be able to make inside his love without coming prematurely.

He removed his fingers and carefully slicked his cock. He positioned himself, and felt Harry tense. "Relax, love," he reminded him in a soft voice; almost crooning. "Just relax; let me take care of you." He caught Harry's gaze and held it, transfixed by one another they stared into each other's eyes.

Harry relaxed visibly and Draco carefully pushed forward, just a little. Just enough to enter Harry, but not too much for him to take at once. He waited while Harry adjusted, then pushed forward a little more, ever so slowly, filling him to the hilt. He moved at an agonizingly slow pace, but he didn't stop until his balls were pressed up against Harry's arse. He stayed perfectly still now, waiting for Harry's shivering body to adjust, to tell him when he wanted him to move.

Harry was so tight it almost hurt. The heat and that tightness enveloped Draco, making it hard to breathe, to think. He forced himself to focus on Harry's eyes, which hadn't left his. Harry's face had flinched a couple of times in pain, but each time he had continued smiling encouragingly at Draco, so he had continued, albeit slowly. Draco waited patiently, and soon Harry began to wiggle his hips. "You can move now," he said softly. "I think I'm okay."

"You think?" Draco didn't like the sound of that. Harry broke eye contact, which Draco didn't like.

"Well I've never done this before," Harry said defensively, blushing and not meeting Draco's eyes. A sense of wonder filled Draco.

"So I'm the first? I'm your first?"

He gazed at Harry, who mumbled, "Yeah."

He leaned forward and caught Harry's mouth in a desperate kiss. It was passionate but tender, slow and gentle, just like a first time was supposed to be. He pulled back slightly and gazed into Harry's stunned eyes, holding the brunet's jaw with one hand to force him to look at himself. "You won't regret this," he promised. "Ever."

Harry's mouth curved in a sad little smile. "I know," he said softly. "I won't."

Draco wanted to ask why he seemed sad when Harry bucked his hips, rolling them against Draco in a way that made him gasp. He released Harry's jaw and laid his hand on the mattress to steady himself.

"Move," Harry commanded, and Draco obeyed.

He moved, slowly, trying not to let the sensation overwhelm him. He focused on being gentle, and watching Harry to determine what he needed. As Harry seemed more comfortable he began experimenting with his angle, making adjustments until –

"Fuck, Draco,  _fuck_!"

He smirked. "Like that, do you?"

"Godric, yes," hissed Harry. "Do it again!"

Draco laughed and thrust again, brushing Harry's prostate and loosing another string of expletive's from the normally chaste-tongued boy. He began to increase his pace, and soon he was moving quite fast, with Harry meeting him thrust for thrust. He threw his head back and let himself drown. Pleasure roared over him like a tidal wave and he let himself get pulled under and swept away.

Everything was pleasure. He was drowning in it. Everything was tight, wet heat and pleasure and  _Harry_. The knowledge that this was Harry was the sweetest, most poignant part of all this.

Harry was chanting his name like a prayer, moaning and writhing and sometimes screaming beneath him, and his eyes were all that Draco could see. They were eyes a person could lose himself in, and Draco was already so lost he didn't know if he'd ever be found again. But that was okay, because it was Harry.

After what seemed simultaneously forever and not nearly long enough, Harry arched his back and came, hot white streams of come shooting all over his stomach. He cried out Draco's name as he did, his fingers clutching the blond's arms hard enough to hurt.

Draco barely registered that, though. He was just overcome by the sensation of Harry's tight channel drawing tighter around him, and his own orgasm overtook him. He moaned Harry's name brokenly as his release filled the brunet.

The boys lay panting for a while, exhausted. Eventually, Draco realised he must be heavy, and rolled off of Harry with a groan. He lay beside Harry and tried not to wonder what was running through his head. No doubt wishing they weren't locked in together so he could get away from Draco. He tried not to feel bitter about it.

After a while longer, Harry's voice came, tentatively. "Draco? He hesitated, unsure. "Can I call you 'Draco'?" He bit his lip, looking nervous.

 _So cute_ , thought Draco. Out loud he said, "Only if I can call you Harry." The blond quirked a half-smile at him.

"Draco," Harry repeated, smiling slightly. "What… what is this?" He looked nervous again.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well you see, Harry," he drawled. "When a couple of blokes each finds the other really fit…"

Harry giggled. "Not that, you berk," he said, trying to turn his grin into a scowl and only succeeding in looking comical. Draco burst out laughing. Harry just shook his head, grinning freely.

"But Draco, you know what I meant. I meant…" he gestured between them, his face serious. Draco sobered.

"Do we have to define it right now?" he asked. Ever the Slytherin, he was not going to tip his hand and reveal his feelings unless he had reason to think they were returned. "I think for now it's been a big enough revelation that neither of us actually hates the other." He frowned. "Unless that was hate sex."

Harry smiled slightly. "It didn't feel like hate sex." The smile disappeared. "But I wouldn't know, I guess." He looked at Draco quizzically and Draco shook his head, a little too vehemently.

"No," he agreed. "That was most definitely not hate sex. So we agree, we don't hate each other anymore." Harry nodded, and Draco grinned ferally. "Just think how our friends will react."

Harry groaned and put his hand over his eyes while Draco cackled.

"Well, we're still trapped in here, so we might as well define it, while we're at it," he began, but Draco shook his head. He looked where the blond gestured and there, in sharp relief to the stone walls around it, was a wooden door.

"What?" he began, and Draco interrupted.

"The Room isn't broken, Harry. It gave us a place to work out the tension between us – sexual tension. It gave us what we  _needed_." He smirked.

Harry grinned slyly. "I don't know about you, but I think the Room might need a little more convincing."

"No, the door's right- Mmmph!" Draco said as Harry pounced on him, snogging him senseless again.

"Yes, Harry, he gasped when the brunet finally let him breathe. "I think you're absolutely right."

"Mhmm," agreed Harry, kissing him again.

Draco pulled back, hesitant. "Harry?"

"Yes?" said Harry, a trifle impatient to deal with anything that didn't involve him snogging the breath out of a certain blond Slytherin.

"I think maybe we should define this, after all."  _To hell with Slytherin-ness_ , he thought.  _I'm in love with a Gryffindor; it won't kill me to act like one, for once._

He looked Harry in the eyes. "I love you, you stupid speccy git," he said softly. "I have for a long time, and I've never been able to stop making you see me the only way I knew how – by provoking you. Better you hate me than not think of me at all, and better you fight me than ignore me." There. It was out.

Harry stared. Draco started to pull away, but he stopped him. "Wait, Draco," he said. Draco stopped pulling away and looked at him, eyes shuttered, preparing to be hurt. Harry sighed. "I don't have a declaration of secretly loving you for years, like you gave me. But I know that you've always been the one who's kept me grounded. You kept my head from getting too big, and you always treated me the same, no matter what. Your opinion of me has never depended on the Prophet, and I can't tell you how much that's meant to me at times. And in sixth year," Draco flinched and pulled away again, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "No, listen, dammit! In sixth year, when you stopped paying attention to me, it was like the world had ended. I couldn't stand it. I started obsessing over you. I told everyone it was cause I knew you were up to something, and I was right, but I never would have noticed if I hadn't been obsessing over you already!" He snorted. "For Godric's sake; I used to watch you  _sleep_!"

"You used to watch me sleep?" repeated Draco, arching an eyebrow at him.

Harry huffed. "Not like that; see, I have this map… oh, never mind. The point is, I used to obsess over you, a lot more than would have been normal even if I did think you were up to something. I've always been just as obsessed with you as you have with me. And I think the fact that I chose to give you my virginity kind of proves that I don't hate you. I like you. I think I like you quite a lot, actually. And I don't want this to be a one-off. In fact, I was really worried that you would, and I would be left to nurse a broken heart alone when we got out of here." He smiled wryly at Draco.

Draco cleared his throat. "So, not a one-off, then. Where does that leave us, Harry?" He smiled.

"I thought maybe we could try dating for a bit," said Harry hesitantly. "See if we can make things work. If you want," he added hurriedly, and Draco gaped at him. "Or not," he amended, misreading Draco's astonishment.

"Harry, I just confessed my  _love_  to you, like a bloody  _Gryffindor_. Of course I want to date you! Merlin, are you really that slow?" Draco shook his head, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Oh." Harry flushed. Then he grinned. "So, we're… dating now?"

"Yeah," Draco felt a rush of happiness. He smirked at Harry. "So, you used to watch me sleep, huh?"

Harry blushed furiously. "I  _told_  you, it wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

"I have this map that shows me where everyone in the castle is at all times. I used to stare at your dot for hours. Sometimes half the night."

Draco burst out laughing as a feeling of warmth flooded his whole being. He leaned forward and grabbed his new boyfriend, peppering his face with kisses. "You like me," he murmured. "You really,  _really_  like me!"

"Yeah," Harry smiled. I really, really do." And he kissed Draco back.


	2. Expecting Unexpectedly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco have a falling out. Harry gets some unexpected news.

**Chapter Two:**  Expecting Unexpectedly

**Disclaimer:**  Mine. My Precioussssssss... *hides Gollum-like clutching stolen characters to her chest*

Not mine, anymore than Gollum really owned the One Ring. (And if you don't get the references, I must seriously question your reading choices, or at least your movie-watching ones.)

**Warnings:** Sex. Gay sex. Get over it. Also, this chapter mentions MPreg.

**A/N:** This is continued, after MUCH time off for personal reasons. The response to this story blew me away - it was far, far beyond what I was expecting. In fact, the response to this story was better than any other story I've ever written - except perhaps In The Stacks; but that's a chapter fic. Well of Erised is getting a similar response to this fic; but hasn't caught up yet. Regardless; this fic is undoubtedly one of the best I've written, and one of the most loved. (On FF.net)

This will be an MPreg, because I love MPreg (went from being squicked by it to loving it by virtue of reading a lot of it), so I'm sorry if that bothers you. But it's my story, and I'm doing my best to make it interesting and fun. And I really, REALLY want to write an MPreg. Plus I had no other ideas for continuing it. :P

Enjoy, and don't forget to review! *loves and cuddles you all*

* * *

Harry kissed Draco, with force and intensity. Draco moaned into the kiss. He'd never kissed or been kissed by anyone like Harry before. The fact that it was Harry Potter who was kissing him was just that much hotter.

Not that Draco had a wealth of experience with kissing. He'd only ever snogged Pansy, and that had been worlds different. Pansy had been soft and pliable under his hands. Harry was firm, yielding only when necessary to further their activities.

The lone time he and Pansy had had sex, at the beginning of sixth year, it had been a traumatic experience for them both. He'd broken down and cried afterwards, telling her he was gay. Not what a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend of two years after losing their virginity together. She'd refused to speak to him afterwards, and he'd lost the only person he'd been willing to confide in about his problems.

His sixth year had subsequently been lonelier and colder than ever.

Blaise was alright; a decent friend, but neutral in the war. Funny, considering he was best friends with Theodore Nott. Vince and Greg were important to him, but much too dumb to share secrets with. Pansy had been his best friend, the one he traded barbs with, who kept him sharp. Who kept his secrets.

While they had patched their friendship up after the war, two years of not speaking had taken its toll. Part of why he had been so heavily fixated on carrying on his rivalry with Potter had been because he was so damn lonely.

Now, things would change. Potter was his.

Draco smiled against Harry's mouth as he deepened the kiss.

Harry was straddling him, his already hard cock sliding roughly against Draco's smooth stomach. Draco was hard, too, and getting harder. Harry was beautiful atop him, moaning into his mouth; he wanted to grab this moment and immobilize it, keep it forever.

Harry was rocking against him, his cock rubbing against Draco's stomach and the cleft of his arse brushing against Draco's cock.

"I want to be inside you," he whispered, and Harry's eyes darkened.

Harry lifted his hand and silently, wandlessly summoned the lube. Draco's eyes darkened at this display of power. Harry had been holding back on him. He smiled and Harry's gaze softened.

"Merlin, you're beautiful," he whispered, staring down at the blond. He swooped down and attacked Draco's mouth with his own. "So. Bloody. Gorgeous," he hissed between kisses.

Draco felt like he was flying. The intoxicating rush, the thrill, the exhilaration of it was flooding through his veins as if he'd been in the air, competing with Potter for the snitch. All of the pleasure, none of the frustration. He moaned loudly against Harry, surrendering control.

Harry broke the kiss and straightened. He took some lube from the small jar, smearing it over his fingers and reaching behind to stretch himself. He groaned as his fingers breached his hole and his eyes fluttered shut. Draco settled back and enjoyed the show, entranced by his dark-haired lover. Harry was ethereally beautiful.

"I love seeing you like this; straddling me, stretching yourself for me," he said breathlessly.

Harry removed his fingers, eyes dark and filled with lust. All for me, Draco thought with a rush. The thought was intoxicating.

He lifted himself and took Draco's cock in hand; and Draco gasped at the sensation of Harry's slick hand on him, rubbing the lube up and down his length. Harry positioned himself and lined up Draco's cock before sinking down on it.

The tightness and heat of Harry's body made him gasp. "Merlin, Harry!" he groaned out. "You're so tight. So hot. You feel so bloody good!"

Harry hissed a little at the burn. It took Draco a moment to realise Harry was speaking parseltongue, but the sound went straight to his cock and he whimpered, desperate for Harry to sink down all the way; to impale himself on Draco's throbbing erection. it was all he could do to keep still.

Harry continued to hiss in parseltongue, lowering himself slowly. He rose a little and fell, a little deeper each time. He finally came to rest with his arse against Draco's balls. His head was thrown back, his toned body outlined in the low light. The sight took Draco's breath away. It was almost too much, and the Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

"Open them," Harry commanded softly, and Draco obeyed.

He groaned as Harry rocked against him, slowly.

"Oh, Merlin, Draco," Harry moaned. "Merlin. Draco." His name fell like a prayer from Harry's lips. Harry raised his head and locked eyes with Draco. His breath hitched.

Draco was lost in a sea of green. Harry's eyes captivated and held him.

Harry began to rise and fall, and the Draco was lost.

Harry's movements started slowly, gaining speed and rigor as he went. He was making soft, breathy noises that drove Draco wild. Draco bucked his hips, and Harry cried out. He began riding Draco harder, faster, and Draco thrust upwards into the heat,

"Oh, Merlin, Harry!" he cried. He moved faster, and so did Harry. He felt a tightening in his balls and reached out to stroke Harry's cock, moving in time with their thrusts. Harry whimpered and bit his lip, his movements faltering for a moment before he continued.

"Come for me," Draco whispered, staring into Harry green, green eyes, the command in his voice unmistakable. With a shudder Harry cried out again, almost screamed, and began to shoot streams of pearly white come all over Draco's chest. There was a crackle of magic around them and a shimmering field of light enveloped them, tingling their skin and making the moment that much more intense. Harry's body spasmed around Draco, and with a final thrust, he cried out as well, emptying himself into Harry.

Harry sank against him, boneless. He wrapped his arms around Harry and shivered. Draco honestly believed it might have been the single most incredible moment of his life.

It was much later, after their heated snogging session that had evolved into another bout of shagging, that Harry and Draco reluctantly prepared to leave the Room of Requirement. They dressed silently, sneaking furtive looks at one another, Harry blushing when he was caught, Draco smirking.

Draco moved towards the door, but Harry caught his arm.

"We should probably figure out what we're going to tell people," he said, wrinkling his brow.

"What we're going to tell people?" Draco blinked at him in confusion.

"You know. So they don't freak out." Ronald Weasley figured prominently in Harry's thoughts. "We should probably think up a good cover story. Since we won't be hating on each other anymore."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. "You don't want to tell anyone," Draco said flatly. He felt like a newly caught snitch; snatched from the freedom of flight to be cruelly, mercilessly grounded.

"It isn't like that," Harry protested.

"Then tell me, Potter, what it's like. Because that is exactly what it sounds like to me." Draco glared at him.

Harry felt his temper flare but kept it in check. This… thing… between them was too new, too fragile, for them to start fighting just yet. He ground his teeth. "Listen, Draco. This thing – us – it's too new. We have no way of knowing how long it'll last. And I don't know if it's strong enough to stand up to the scrutiny of everyone finding out about it just yet."

Draco barked out a bitter laugh. "You mean you think that your friends will talk you out of it if you give them the chance."

Harry winced. Put that way, it did sound bad.

"Don't worry, Potter," Draco sneered. "I'll just save them the trouble, then, shall I? He shook his arm free and strode towards the door.

Harry`s temper won out. "Look, you insufferable prat-"

"Oh, I'm insufferable, am I?"

"Right now, yes."

"Well you needn't 'suffer' my company anymore, so don't worry." Draco seized the door handle.

"What-"

"It was nice shagging you, Potter, but I think we're quite done here." The coolness of Draco's tone was matched only by his expression.

Harry looked stricken. "But I thought- Merlin, Draco; you said you loved me!"

"Did I?" Draco smirked. "You really are too trusting for your own good, Potter. A word of advice, for next time: don't believe everything a bloke says to you in bed."

Hurt and anger flooded Harry. "You bastard!"

"My parents were married long before I was conceived, sorry," Draco tossed his head. "See you round, Potter." He pulled the door open and left, striding for the dungeons. His head was held high, and years of practice kept his expression carefully neutral.

Inside the Room of Requirement, Harry slumped down on the bed where he'd lost his virginity not two hours before, too stunned to cry.

* * *

The following four weeks were a nightmare for Harry. Draco was his usual smirking, sarcastic self; but he found himself unable to rise to the bait. The blond seemed to be going out of his way to make Harry miserable, yet Harry couldn't bring himself to retaliate.

He found himself frequently the butt of the Slytherin's jokes and pranks, often on the other end of Draco's stinging tongue. The blond ignored him whenever he wasn't humiliating or ridiculing him, and Harry honestly couldn't decide which was worse.

He was forced to admit that his feelings for Draco were deeper than he'd previously thought. He'd always known he was obsessed with Draco Malfoy, perhaps to an unhealthy degree, but now he couldn't seem to stop thinking about him. Noticing him. Watching him. On the rare occasion when Draco caught him watching, Draco narrowed his eyes and looked away.

Harry found his emotions spiraling out of control. He'd never have believed being heartbroken over Draco Malfoy could turn him into such a Hufflepuff, but then, he'd never imagined he'd be heartbroken over Draco Malfoy in the first place.

He found himself struggling with an increased need to use the washrooms, though not all of it was due to his need to find a private place to fall apart. It was as if his bladder had gotten the memo on his emotional state and had shrunk to oblige him by providing a valid excuse to hurry off and use the loo.

On top of that, he seemed to be developing a stomach bug. He was sick to his stomach with greater and greater frequency, finding many of his favourite foods turned his stomach as often as not. Smells affected him more strongly than he had ever noticed them doing so before, and his life was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

He finally allowed his friends to drag him to see Madam Pomfrey.

She gave him a thorough check up, before pronouncing him in perfect health. He was slightly puzzled.

"Then why do I feel like this?" he asked.

"Are there any symptoms you've left out?"

"Smells bug me, I get sick to my stomach all the time… I need to pee a lot. And, uhm," he paused flushing. "My nipples hurt. My shirt chafes." He rubbed the offending body parts absently with the heel of his hand as he spoke. It didn't exactly help; the increased pressure just made the chaffing less noticeable for a little while after he did it. He'd actually stopped noticing how often he made the gesture; it had simply become habit.

"He's also quite emotional," put in Hermione slowly. She was beginning to get "the look", which usually signified she was getting an idea. "Madam Pomfrey, may I make a suggestion? When you checked Harry for illnesses, did it occur to you to check for any… conditions?"

Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened. "But that would take-"

"A very powerful wizard," Hermione nodded. "And who more powerful than the defeater of Voldemort?"

Harry began to protest, but Madam Pomfrey whitened. "You're right," she whispered. "I just never thought…" She turned back to Harry and began a few, swift wand movements and muttered incantations. A moment later, his abdomen glowed pink.

Harry squeaked in surprise, Ron burst out laughing, and Hermione and Madam Pomfrey both gasped.

"Mate, your face!" guffawed Ron. "It's priceless!"

"Ronald!" snapped Hermione, and he sobered quickly.

Madam Pomfrey recovered her composure. "Well, Mr. Potter, it appears congratulations are in order."

Harry shot her a quizzical look. "Because I glowed pink?" He grinned cheekily.

"Because, Mr. Potter," she said soberly. "You're going to be a father."

It took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, he laughed. He was surprised that Ron didn't join him, and turned to his best friend, expecting to see amusement, not horror, on his face.

He glanced between the three of them, trying to work out why they were all looking at him… like that.

"That's impossible," he stated flatly. "I've never slept with a girl; any girl who shows up here saying different is lying."

"I didn't say anything about a girl being involved, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, but her eyes softened as she looked at him. "You're the one pregnant."

Harry blinked. Then he laughed again. He couldn't help it. It was ridiculous. Men couldn't get pregnant. The very idea was preposterous. And so is the idea of flying on broomsticks, or people transfiguring into animals, but that happens in the wizarding world all the time, his subconscious reminded him. He told it to be still and shook his head. "That's absurd." He looked beseechingly at Ron. "C'mon, mate; quit having me on."

"You're a poof?" managed Ron weakly. Harry blinked again, then flushed. Hermione elbowed Ron, but he continued. "Why didn't you tell me, mate?"

"I only just figured it out not long ago, and I wasn't sure how you'd react," replied Harry truthfully, if a trifle awkwardly. The whole day was beginning to feel a little surreal to him.

"You'll need to see me once every two weeks for a check-up, Mr. Potter. Male pregnancies are unusual, and you'll be more susceptible than a woman would be to complications," Madam Pomfrey continued as though he'd simply accepted her pronouncement.

"Wait," he held up a hand. "Men can't get pregnant. It's impossible."

"Not for very magically powerful wizards, Harry," said Hermione softly. He turned to look at her in surprise. "I've researched it, as I found the subject fascinating once I uncovered it. Male pregnancy is impossible in the muggle world, or for ordinary wizards. Only very powerful wizards can get pregnant."

Harry's head spun. "But I'm not-"

"Harry." Hermione's tone was exasperated. "You're pregnant. You're powerful. Get over it."

Harry laughed again; he couldn't help it. "Merlin," he said softly. "Pregnant. Why can't I just be normal, for once?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm afraid nothing about you will ever be normal."

"No," said Harry bitterly. "That's become glaringly obvious."

"Since male pregnancies are so rare," put in Madam Pomfrey in a comforting tone. "You might want to bring the other father in to see me, before you tell him. He might not know about them, and it would make it less awkward to explain if I were the one to do it."

Less awkward. Another way of saying, 'he might not believe you otherwise', Harry thought. He thought of Draco and a pang shot through him.

"Don't worry about it," he said blandly. "It won't be necessary."

"Harry," began Hermione. "You don't know if he'll be as skeptical about male pregnancy as you were or not. It's a good idea to have Madam Pomfrey there, at least, to explain."

"There's nothing to explain," replied Harry. "I'm not telling him."

"What do you-"

"It was a one-off, Hermione. He doesn't," Harry swallowed. "He doesn't want anything to do with me now. It was just a lark to him." He tried to keep the misery out of his tone, but from the look on his friends' faces, he hadn't succeeded. His eyes were suddenly full of tears and he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, putting her arms around him. He wiped at his eyes.

"Merlin, look at me; I'm like a bloody girl. I really am pregnant." He tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. Hermione's arms tightened around him.

"Who is it, mate?" Ron looked murderous. "Who do I kill?"

Harry tried to imagine telling Ron that the other father was Draco, and shuddered. He did not need his best friend going to Azkaban. Whether for killing him or for killing Draco was the only question.

"No one," Harry replied. "As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't exist."

"Harry," Hermione spoke hesitantly. "He might want to know, though. He might want to be involved in the baby's life. It's not your place to deny him that."

"No." Harry was very firm on this. "He doesn't get a say."

"But Harry, he's going to find out, anyway. All of Hogwarts will."

"No. Because you're not going to say anything, and school robes can hide a lot."

"Err, hate to break this to you, Harry, but the other boys in the dorm are gonna notice, mate," Ron put in.

Harry nodded. "But they won't say anything, either. There's no reason for the whole world to know my business."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "But Harry," Hermione began.

"No buts, Hermione. If you're my friends, you guys won't say anything. To anyone."

"The headmistress will need to be informed," Madam Pomfrey put in, frowning.

"She won't say anything, either," Harry was confident. "She'll respect my privacy."

"Well, you know I'm with ya, mate. Good riddance to the tosser." Ron sounded disgusted. "Ditching my best friend; can't be anyone fit to be a parent, anyway."

Hermione shot him a disapproving glare, but he ignored it, and Harry smiled at him. "Thanks, Ron. You're a true friend." He gave Hermione a pointed look, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Alright, Harry. But I think you should at least give whoever it is a chance. You don't know-"

"But I do," put in Harry. "And it's my baby."

Hermione still looked troubled, but she nodded. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Harry."

Harry smiled. That makes two of us.

* * *

"What's the matter, Potty; hit your head one too many times? Oh wait; I forgot – that happened at your birth," Draco sneered as he noticed Harry and his friends leaving the infirmary.

Weasel looked mutinous, and even Granger looked like she wanted to hex him. But Harry just looked tired.

"Malfoy, I don't have time for your shit today," he said without looking at Draco. "Just get it out of your system and move on." He walked on without glancing at Draco even once.

Draco frowned. Normally Potter couldn't take his eyes off of the Slytherin; and that suited Draco just fine. What he didn't like was the way Harry dismissed him, as if he were nothing.

His frown deepened into a scowl.

"What's wrong, Potter; not capable of witty repartee right now? Oh wait - you never have been one for wit except by halves."

Potter ignored him and continued on his way. Draco didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit.

* * *

Ginny slid into her usual spot beside Harry at the table during lunchtime - or tried to. Ron and Hermione were guarding him like a phalanx, stationed on either side of him, without budging. Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"Don't tell me you two are fighting," she said, exasperated.

"No, Gin, I just got some... shocking news from Madam Pomfrey. They're feeling protective." Harry sighed. He cast a privacy ward and motioned for her to sit. After a moment's thought, he widened the ward to include Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Luna, who had chosen to sit with them.

"Listen up, guys; I may as well tell you all at once, since you'll find out eventually. But I need you all to swear you won't tell anyone, first."

At their nods of assent he continued. "I'm pregnant."

There was a stunned silence, before Dean and Seamus burst out laughing. "Right, mate; you had us worried there for a minute," Dean chuckled.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not joking."

"But that's impossible," Seamus protested.

"So is flying around on a broomstick after magically charmed balls. So is transfiguring a leaf into a sofa. So is a professor who transfigures into a cat."

Dean and Seamus paled.

"Men can get pregnant," Seamus said, weakly. "You're serious."

"Trust me; I wouldn't joke about this. It's not funny." Harry stared at his plate, feeling vaguely ill.

"I didn't even know you were gay, Harry, but congratulations!" Luna smiled warmly at him. As usual, she took everything in stride.

"Wait; Harry's gay?" Dean's jaw dropped.

"Of course," said Luna. "He couldn't have gotten pregnant otherwise. Unless he's bisexual, but I don't think he is."

"No," Harry's cheeks flamed. "I'm gay."

"Gay," repeated Dean faintly.

"Why do you think he and I never got back together?" Ginny asked, amused.

"You knew? Ron sputtered.

"Of course." Ginny grinned. "How else do you think he got me to back off?" Her eyes narrowed. "Last I knew, though, you were a virgin, Harry. So spill; who's the other Daddy?"

"No one," Harry answered, still staring at his plate, stirring the contents around disinterestedly with his fork. "It was a one-off four weeks ago, and he wants nothing more to do with me."

He looked up, and his eyes met Ginny's, whose own eyes rounded in horror. "Oh, Harry," she breathed.

The others commiserated with him, but he could feel Ginny's eyes on him, demanding an explanation. He resigned himself to giving it later. It would be nice to have at least one friend who knew about Malfoy.

"So, Harry's gay." Dean couldn't seem to get over that.

"Yes, Dean," Seamus snapped, suddenly. "Gayer than a unicorn dancing over a rainbow to Madonna while wearing pink sequins and backlit by strobe lights under a disco ball!"

Hermione and Harry both snorted with laughter. The purebloods at the table just looked at Seamus' flushed face with blank expressions.

Seamus huffed and stared moodily at his plate.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm sorry; I just… I've never met anyone who was, before." He bit his lip. "So how did you know you were gay?"

Harry raised a brow. The question itself wasn't unusual, but something in Dean's manner, and his eyes, gave Harry pause. He wondered if there were more to his friend's question than simple curiousity.

"How did you know you were straight, Dean?" Seamus asked sarcastically, and Dean's face turned as red as the trim on his scarf.

"I didn't- that wasn't-"

"He's fine, Seamus," said Harry. He wondered about Seamus' vehemence, and if there was something the Irish boy was hiding.

"So, Harry - pregnant. How'd that happen?" Neville looked at him with undisguised curiousity.

"Oh, that's very simple, Neville," answered Luna serenely. "Harry let another boy put his-"

"Not that!" squeaked Neville. "I didn't mean that!"

Harry chuckled, grateful that he'd chosen to tell Luna as well.

"I meant," Neville was still blushing to the roots of his hair. "That I've never heard of a man getting pregnant before."

Harry explained what Madam Pomfrey had told them.

"Apparently," he finished awkwardly. "I'm an, erhm, a very powerful wizard." He blushed. There was just no modest way to say that, he thought.

A shadow fell over his plate and he looked up, only to see Headmistress McGonagall standing there, looking severe. Then again, Harry thought wryly, when didn't she look severe. He cancelled the privacy spell.

"Yes, profess- headmistress?" he asked.

"I'll need to see you in my office, Mr. Potter, once you're finished here."

Harry stood. The smells were getting to him, anyway. "Of course."

She turned and marched away; Harry followed. He failed to notice a pair of grey eyes that watched as he left the room, trailing in the headmistress' wake.

* * *

"I understand you're in a unique situation here, Mr. Potter." McGonagall fixed her gaze on Harry, and he flinched.

'Erhm, yeah," he mumbled articulately.

"Mr. Potter, I must insist on knowing the name of the other parent. When something involves my students…"

"Who said it was a student, Headmistress?" interrupted Harry. "It could have been someone I met in Hogsmeade."

McGonagall looked taken aback for a moment, but recovered. "Could have been, yes. But I don't think it was, was it, Mr. Potter. You wouldn't be

"I'm not telling you unless you swear an oath not to tell him," replied Harry calmly. "I don't need the hassle and he doesn't want it either. It would only make both of us more miserable."

McGonagall pursed her lips, then extended her hand. "Very well, Mr. Potter. I give you my oath."

Harry was taken aback. He hadn't expected her to go so far. He hesitated, then spoke in a low, defeated voice. "It's Draco Malfoy, Ma'am."

Shock was not an expression the headmistress wore often.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she repeated.

"Yes. He's the only one I've... There's no one else."

There was an awkward silence.

"What do you intend to do about school?"

"My dorm mates already know. School robes are loose enough that I should be able to hide from the rest of the school. I'll be graduating before the baby's due." Harry shrugged. "Seems like there's no problem, that I can see."

McGonagall's face softened. "And after school?" she asked quietly.

"Well, I'm independently wealthy," Harry said. "Shouldn't be too hard to provide for the baby. And I own Grimmauld Place, so we have somewhere to live."

McGonagall's expression saddened. "I don't like the idea of you doing this on your own, Harry."

Harry started. It was the first time he ever remembered her calling him by his given name.

"I won't be alone. I'll have the Weasleys, and my friends." He lifted his chin and met her eyes. "It'll be enough." He wasn't sure who he wanted to convince by saying that, but he refused to listen to the small part of him that screamed for Draco to be with him, to go through this by his side. The blond had made his choice. The Draco he'd glimpsed in the room was merely a facade. The person who'd captured his heart wasn't real. He needed to remember that.

It would be enough that he had his friends. It had to be.

* * *

Ginny ambushed him as he left McGonagall's office. She was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and pounced on him as soon as he left. He pulled back from her in surprise.

"Don't you have class?"

"Sod class," she said, stamping her foot. "I want to know why four weeks ago you met with Malfoy in the Room of Requirement for a duel, and now you're pregnant! Please tell me it's not what I think it is!"

"Gin!" he hissed, looking around to make sure the corridors were empty. He pulled her into a nearby alcove. "I don't want this getting out! You know that! You can't just announce it in the halls!"

She rolled her eyes. "There's no one around, Harry. Now," her eyes narrowed. "Please tell me that it's not what it sounds like!"

"I didn't mean for it to happen," he answered softly. "He - Draco - was different. He was so... Tender. Caring. I'd never seen him that way."

"But he's not-"

"I know." Harry let out a defeated sigh. "But he sure fooled me."

Ginny looked at him sadly. "Oh, Harry." She put her arms around him. "You went and fell for him, didn't you?"

"I think I always cared more for him than I should have," said Harry with a bitter laugh. "Think sixth year, Gin."

She winced. "I can see that." She held him tight. "He's been especially awful to you lately, hasn't he?"

Harry laughed again; a sharp barking sound. He wondered vaguely if he would ever laugh without bitterness again.

"He's being himself." Harry shrugged. "What else do you expect?"

Ginny shook her head, then laid it on Harry's shoulder. "I'm here for you, Harry. Always. You know that, right?"

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. "Thanks, Gin."

He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against her head. They stood in companionable silence, holding one another for a while.

"Well isn't this a touching picture," a familiar voice sneered. "Skiving off class to snog your girlfriend, Potter?"

They broke apart abruptly. Shame rose within Harry as he fought the desire to assure Draco that It wasn't what it looked like; reminding himself that Draco didn't care, that he didn't owe the Slytherin anything, least of all an explanation.

A tired, "Go away, Malfoy," was all he managed before Ginny whipped out her wand and hexed the blond. Draco shrieked as bats came flying out of his nostrils. Calmly, Ginny hexed him twice more before pocketing her wand. She grabbed Harry's hand and tugged, while he gaped at Draco.

"Come on, Harry," she said coolly. "Let's go somewhere where the air isn't so foul." She led him away, and he burst out laughing at the expression of outrage on Draco's face.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he demanded. She smirked.

"Not often enough, Potter."

He laughed and swatted her, even as a pang ran through him at the similarity to another person calling him by his last name.

 


	3. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has an illuminating conversation with Pansy, after which he vows to do whatever it takes to win Harry back.

**Chapter 3:** Starting Over

 **Disclaimer:** I am owned by, rather than owning, Harry Potter and his world.

 **A/N:** I am SO SORRY that I haven't updated in so long! I got REALLY sick for a while; I was hospitalized and everything. Now I don't have as much internet access as I used to, so it's hard to get time to write. Hopefully I'll be getting a laptop soon, so even though my internet access will still be limited, I can write and upload my stories when I get a chance. But, in the meanwhile, I am back, and will continue updating my stories as quickly as I can. :)

Sorry for the wait, and I love you all! :D

* * *

"Honestly, Draco; you've only got yourself to blame if Potter's girlfriend attacked you. The way you've been behaving lately is insane!"

Draco turned over on his bed, where he was currently lounging and aimed his best death glare at Pansy. She rolled her eyes in response.

"Darling, that stopped working on me _years_ ago. Just because I needed some time to get over you realising you'd rather fuck Potter than me, doesn't mean that I started fearing you again. Idiot."

Draco gaped at her. "I do _not_ want Potter! I hate him! He's a stupid, speccy git, and I'm not in love with him!"

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Please, Draco. I _know_ you. I knew from the moment you told me that you were gay that you wanted Potter. And I never said anything about being in love with him – you did."

Draco flushed, and began sputtering a denial, but Pansy waved him off.

"Don't even try, Draco. I know you too well. I know you want Potter, but sadly, he's straight and utterly unattainable. You'll have to set your sights quite a bit lower, if you ever want to have sex with a man before your father makes you marry some pureblood chit – and no, before you ask; I will _not_ be that pureblood chit. I want a man who will actually want to sleep with me once in a while for recreational purposes, and not be sleeping around on me because I don't have the bits to keep him happy."

Draco huffed at her. "You don't know what you're talking about, Pansy."

She scowled at him. "When I agreed to be your friend again, you promised me you would always be honest with me, Draco. I'm the only one who knows your secret – and I haven't told; not even when you broke my heart. If you can't be honest with me now, then I have no intention of being your friend anymore."

She turned to leave, and Draco's seeker reflexes came into play and he grabbed her arm as she moved past him. "Wait!"

Pansy paused and stared at him, one brow arched high. He drew in a deep breath and stared at the comforter. "I- I'm in love with Potter. I've been crazy about him since we were eleven."

Pansy nodded. "I suspected as much. You've been obsessed with that boy for as long as you've known him. But none of that explains why you're being so much more vicious to him than usual – especially with McGonagall's warning. It's not smart, Draco. It's not _Slytherin_."

Draco nodded, still staring at the blanket. "There's more. I…" He looked up, releasing her arm. "Will you sit down?" He gestured to the bed beside him. She gave him a curious look, but moved and sat beside him on the bed. He buried his face in his arms, struggling for words.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice was gentle, this time, and she reached out and petted his hair.

"I slept with Potter."

Pansy's hand froze. " _What?_ "

Draco lifted his head, and the words tumbled out in a miserable rush. It seemed once he started speaking, he couldn't stop. "We were going to fight in the Room of Requirement, where we couldn't get caught. But the room locked us in with a bed. And… I don't even know how it happened, but we started kissing and things just… escalated. We had sex and I told him I loved him. We were going to start dating. Then when we went to leave the room, he told me he wanted it to be a secret; he didn't want anyone to know. He wanted us to come up with a cover story for why we'd stopped hating each other. And I just… I was upset. So I told him it had all been a joke, and left him there."

 _"Are you stupid?"_ Pansy demanded. "No," she held up a hand. "Don't answer that. _Of course_ , you're stupid."

He buried his face in his arms again. "It just hurt too much, Pansy. For him to be ashamed of me… I just… I thought it would be better if I made him think it was nothing but a game."

"But Draco," Pansy said helplessly. "You'd have to keep it a secret _anyway_. Would you want your father to find out?"

Draco swallowed. He averted his eyes. "I don't… I don't care as much about what my father thinks as I used to. And… if it was someone I cared about as much as I care about him, I wouldn't want to have to hide it."

Pansy was silent, and Draco hazarded a glance at her. She seemed frozen in shock. She blinked and shook her head.

"Oh, _Draco_." She hugged him. "You poor, stupid boy."

"Will you stop calling me that?" His glare was even less effective when her face was buried in his shoulder, he realised.

"But you _are_ , sweetheart. You really, really _are_."

He tried to protest, but she straightened and put a finger to his lips. "Draco, did it ever occur to you that he simply wants to get his friends used to the idea of the two of you being friends before telling them that you were lovers? To ease them into it gradually, so that they'd be more accepting?"

Draco stared. It really hadn't occurred to him.

"He's a Gryffindor, Draco – do you really think that he'd want to keep his relationship secret from his friends?"

Draco felt a surge of panic. "But I said – he thinks – Pansy, he must _hate_ me now!"

He sat up abruptly. "I have to – I have to fix this!"

Pansy seized his arm. "Draco, wait. You need a plan before you talk to him. Not only do you have to deal with getting him to forgive you for being an unbelievable prat, but you have to compete with the Weaslette. You told me yourself that before she cursed you, they were hiding in an alcove together."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded. It _hurt_ to think that he might have driven Potter back to the Weaslette. He couldn't let himself think that it was too late. He couldn't handle losing him again.

"What should I do?"

* * *

"Can I speak to you?"

Harry stiffened.

"Bugger off, Malfoy!" Ron snarled.

"Not until I speak with Potter."

Harry forced himself to keep walking, pretending that the father of his baby wasn't following them.

"I have no interest in speaking with you, Malfoy," he said. "We have nothing to talk about."

"I think we do," answered Malfoy, and he stepped in front of the trio, forcing them to halt. "I think we have a lot to talk about." His eyes bored straight into Harry's, and it took a great deal of effort for him to wrench his gaze away.

_If only you knew._

"No, Malfoy." He tried to step around the Slytherin, but he was too quick.

"Leave Harry alone!" Ron glared at him. "I'll report you to McGonagall if you so much as _look_ at him wrong, Malfoy!" He stepped forward, wand extended, shielding Harry with his body; prepared to take any curses Malfoy might throw in order to protect Harry's baby. A rush of affection for him spread through him.

"You've pulled too many stunts already; we'll make sure you're expelled if you try anything else!" said Hermione. Her wand was out, too, trained on Malfoy. Harry stared at the floor, wishing he could do _something_. He felt useless.

"I owe Potter an apology. Well; lots of apologies – but this one needs to be in private. It's about… it's about the Room of Requirement."

Harry's head snapped up, and he felt sickened. He stared at Malfoy, who met his gaze calmly; though the mention of apologies was reflected in the flush he was now sporting.

"Will you speak with me, Potter?"

"No!"

"Harry's not going anywhere alone with you!"

"Alright." Both Ron and Hermione turned to stare at him, and he flushed.

"Mate; you're not serious!" Ron shouted, and Harry winced.

"Don't you think that it would be a good idea if Malfoy and I called a truce? Right now, in particular?"

Hermione bit her lip. "That would be a good idea… but how do you know that he's not trying to get you alone to curse you, Harry?"

Harry shifted. "I don't think that's his style. He wouldn't even dream of offering an apology if he didn't intend to follow through. And I can take care of myself."

"But Madam Pomfrey said-"

" _Hermione_!"

She stepped back. "I'm sorry." She threw one last withering glance at Malfoy, then moved away. "Come on, Ron."

"But-"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

He gritted his teeth and followed her, knocking into Malfoy quite violently as he moved past.

Harry turned and headed for an empty classroom. Malfoy followed. Once inside, he drew his wand and trained it on Malfoy.

"What the hell do you want?"

He blinked at the wand, then looked back up at Harry. "I suppose I deserve that."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Oh; you deserve a lot worse than that, Malfoy."

He swallowed. "Yes, I do. I was a complete jerk to you when we left the Room of Requirement, and I've been a jerk ever since. I apologize for that, and I want the chance to explain why I did it."

Harry snorted. "No chance, Malfoy." He shook his head. "You're unbelievable." He moved to leave, but Malfoy blocked his path.

"Please, Potter! Harry! I- I'm begging you!" His cheeks burned with humiliation, and his eyes were earnest. "Just listen to me, alright? That's all I'm asking."

Harry swallowed. He didn't want to hear anything Malfoy had to say. He didn't want anything to _do_ with Malfoy. But what he'd said to Ron and Hermione about calling a truce with Malfoy being the best course of action right now was true. And he _looked_ sincere.

_He looked sincere in the Room of Requirement, too; when he was telling me he loved me._

Harry lowered his wand and closed his eyes. "Alright." He said hoarsely. "Talk."

"I meant everything I said to you in the Room of Requirement. When I told you… how I feel about you. How long I've felt that way."

_Yeah, right._

"I just… when you said you wanted to keep us a secret; I thought you were ashamed of me. I thought you didn't think I was good enough to be your boyfriend, and you were just going to fool around with me until someone better came along. And it hurt. It hurt so much I just lashed out and left. And I've been lashing out ever since. It wasn't until I finally told Pansy, and she pointed out that you might not have meant it that way that I realised how monumentally stupid I've been."

Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy was staring at the floor, cheeks flaming, looking miserable.

 _And beautiful. No matter what, he still looks beautiful._ Harry forced that thought down. He closed his eyes again, struggling with how to respond. Part of him was afraid that Malfoy was lying; but most of him believed Malfoy. If he hadn't been pregnant, he probably would have agreed to give Malfoy another chance.

_But I am pregnant. I'm pregnant and I can't afford to take chances._

"You have been stupid," he said finally. He opened his eyes again. "You've been absolutely horrid, and you hurt me. You took my virginity and told me you loved me, then laughed in my face, left, and have gone out of your way to make my life a living hell ever since. How on earth could you think I would give you another chance?"

"I don't."

Harry started. "Then what-"

"Of course, I _want_ another chance, Harry. I'd do anything for one. But I understand that that's asking too much. What I'm asking for is the chance to be your friend – if you decide someday that you can give me another chance at being more than that, I'll take it. But for now, please just give me the chance to be your friend. To show you that you can trust me. Please."

Malfoy raised his head, and his eyes blazed into Harry. "I love you. I _love_ you. I screwed up because I was hurt and so afraid of being hurt more, but I want a chance to show you that there's more to me than that. I understand that even if you give me the chance to be your friend, that doesn't mean that you're promising me anything and doesn't mean that you-" he shut his eyes and swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, "You won't see anyone else. I understand."

He opened his eyes again, and gazed at Harry expectantly. His face was crimson from blushing, and his eyes were pleading. Harry suddenly ached from the desire to kiss him. He knew that this confession must have been difficult for Malfoy. He knew how proud the blond was, how hard it must have been for him to make the admissions he had, especially without any guarantee of a favourable answer. If he hadn't been pregnant, he probably would have kissed him.

He found himself nodding.

"Alright, Malfoy – Draco." Draco's eyes lit up and he smiled. He stepped towards Harry, who raised his hands to stop him.

"You have a chance to be my friend. But you're going to have to earn it. I don't trust people easily; especially when they've already hurt me. You're going to have to prove yourself. I don't just want you to be nice to me – I want you to be nice to my friends, too. I'll tell them to lay off of you – but you'd better lay off of them, or not only will they retaliate, but I'll know that you didn't mean any of it. If they start something, that's one thing. But don't you dare go treating them the way you have been. I don't make friends with bullies. That's why I refused your hand when we were eleven. You introduced yourself by mocking the first friend I ever made. You want to be my friend? Try not to repeat your mistake."

Malfoy looked thunderstruck.

Harry glared at him. "I'm not going to make this easy for you."

Malfoy shook his head. "I didn't expect you to."

"You sure look shocked."

"I just… that's what it was? You thought I was a bully?"

"You _were_ a bully, Draco." Harry snorted. "For Merlin's sake; you're _still_ a bully. But you're going to have to stop if you're serious about being my friend."

Draco nodded, dumbly. "I never understood why," he said quietly. "I really liked you, in Madam Malkins. I tried to impress you, and I was looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts. Then I found out you were Harry Potter and I was nervous, and still trying to impress you… it really hurt when you refused my hand. I was far too proud to try to get you to be my friend again after that. But I couldn't stop liking you and it made me miserable. When it comes to you, I've always lashed out because I want to make you feel as bad as I feel when I see you and remember that you're unattainable. I know it's immature, and I'm trying to be better."

He swallowed hard again. "I can't promise that I'll be perfect, but I can promise to try my best. Please just… don't hate me if I have a hard time changing."

Harry nodded. He couldn't help feeling a stab of pity for the eleven year old boy who had tried to impress him by emulating the one person he respected most – his father. It wasn't Draco's fault that Lucius Malfoy was… Lucius Malfoy. But it was Draco's fault that he had behaved the way he had, and he would need to prove that he wanted to be better before Harry was willing to be with him.

If Harry could even have that option.

"I won't. As long as I believe you honestly are trying your best, I won't ask for more."

Draco smiled. He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy," he said.

Harry couldn't hold back an answering smile, and he took Draco's hand, shaking it firmly. "Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you."

The boys smiled at one another for a moment, before Harry pointed out, "We're going to be late for class."

Draco grinned even wider. "You'll need to let go of my hand, first."

Harry blushed and dropped his hand. "Sorry."

Draco winked at him. "Trust me; I don't mind at all."

Harry blushed harder. "Walk with me to Potions?" He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He sounded like he was asking Draco to be his date or something. _Careful, Harry. You can't get too attached. Can't let him get too close. Unless you and your friends decide you can trust him, you can't let him know about the baby._

* * *

"Harry, what on earth is going on? Malfoy didn't cast any spells on you; did he?" Hermione's worried voice broke into Harry's concentration. He was trying to keep anyone from noticing that he was watching Draco's arse as they followed him out of the Potions classroom.

"Of course not, 'Mione. We declared a truce; that's all."

"But you partnered with him in class!" Ron stared at Harry, aghast.

"He apologized, and asked if we could try being friends. And you know as well as I do that I can't afford to have anyone hexing me right now. So I agreed. I told him I wanted him to be nice to my friends, and he agreed to be civil – if you guys can be civil to him, as well. I thought that was fair."

"He's got to be planning something." Ron scowled. "There's no way he'd decide to make a truce with you just like that if he wasn't."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I haven't decided to trust him yet, but I have decided to give him a chance. And I do believe that he was sincere."

"Harry, how can you be sure?" Hermione grabbed his arm, and Harry shook her off, annoyed.

Lately he had been really uncomfortable with people touching him. For some reason he'd had no problem with Draco, though; and that really bothered him. Both because it was frustrating that he didn't mind (and even enjoyed) Draco's touch while his best friends' made him want to run the other way screaming, and because it meant he'd have to be hyper vigilant to keep anyone from noticing that the only person he didn't mind touching him was Draco Malfoy – including Draco himself.

He didn't need to give the blond the idea that Harry was considering a romantic relationship with him. Harry refused to acknowledge that there was any hope for the two of them. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Draco was able to earn his trust, because of the fear that Draco wouldn't.

"Can you both just trust me, for once? Please?"

"What do you mean 'for once'?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "When have we _not_ trusted you, when it's been important?"

"I was right about the Deathly Hallows, and neither of you believed me," said Harry. "And in sixth year I was right about Draco being up to something – I'm asking you guys to trust me this time that he's not."

Ron glared at him. "I'm not gonna be that ferret's friend!" he spat. "Nothing could make me do that!"

Harry stopped walking and glared back. "He didn't ask _you_ to be his friend; he asked _me_. All I want from the two of you is to be civil to each other, and he's already agreed to do it. Now, are you going to do it for my sake, or will you abandon me when I need you again?"

Ron turned deathly pale and Hermione gasped. "That was low, mate," said Ron quietly.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes; it was, and I'm sorry. But this _is_ important, Ron; and you have a habit of letting your temper get the better of you and taking too much time to cool down. I couldn't afford to wait for you to come around, and have everything blow up and go to hell in the meanwhile."

He opened his eyes and gazed levelly at his best mate. "I'm not asking you to put up with it if he's out of line. I'm just asking you not to start anything."

Ron swallowed, still looking ill. "Alright, Harry." His voice was subdued, and it wrenched Harry's heart. "I don't like it, but I understand. And I'm sorry that I'm so unreliable." His eyes were downcast as he mumbled the last bit, and Harry felt a stab of guilt.

"You're not unreliable, Ron; I never meant that. It's just that you're hotheaded and I didn't know what else to say to keep things from getting crazy. This truce is too fragile for me to know how else to handle it. But I never meant to make you feel that way; and I'm so sorry." He held out a hand. "Forgive me?"

Ron grinned. "'Course. Always, mate. Always." Ron shook his hand and clapped him on the back, and Harry winced and shied away.

"Harry, what's wrong? Do you need Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione's anxious brown eyes greeted him as he turned to her.

"No, I'm fine… I just get really uncomfortable whenever anyone touches me, lately. I… I really don't like it."

"Maybe we should go see Madam Pomfrey, just in case." Harry hesitated.

"I'll be seeing her again in a couple of weeks. I only saw her yesterday, for Merlin's sake."

"But this is a new symptom. You need to make sure that it's normal."

Harry reluctantly agreed to make a detour to the Hospital Wing before lunch.

* * *

"Pansy!"

Pansy turned around only to have Draco throw his arms around her and hug her fiercely. "Whoa!" She shoved at him. "Easy there. You want people to talk?"

Draco pulled back abruptly, glancing around the Slytherin common room at the whispering students. He glared at them and they quickly looked away.

"I need to talk to you. Come up to the dorm? Please?" He shot her a pleading look.

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alright. Let's go, idiot."

Draco scowled. "Will you stop calling me that?"

Pansy smirked. "No."

He tried to maintain his scowl, but couldn't stop the smile that broke out over his face. He hurried up the steps to his dorm, pausing now and then for Pansy to catch up. He chuckled to hear her grumbling behind him.

When they entered the eighth year boys' dorm, Draco took a quick look around and ascertained that none of the other boys were in. He heaved a sigh of relief. Then he turned a beaming smile on Pansy.

"You were right; it worked!"

Pansy raised a brow. "Oh? He took you back?"

"Well… not exactly. But he agreed to the first part of it; to being my friend. You did say that for him to take me back right off the bat was unlikely."

"Yes; but that just means that you're his friend. It doesn't mean that your plan to get him back has worked; not by any stretch of the imagination. And this is where things are going to get hard."

" _This_ is where things get hard? Pansy; _that_ was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life! I _apologized_. I was _humble_!" Draco spat the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "I was completely honest, and I said please! Merlin; I even _begged_! And you're telling me that it gets _harder_?" His voice rose with every word, until he was nearly shouting at the end.

Pansy folded her arms over her chest. "You're the one who fell in love with a Gryffindor. You need to deal with the consequences. If you don't like them, you can always try to fall in love with someone else."

Draco glared at her. "Believe me; if I could, I would!" Then he slumped down onto his bed, dejectedly. "How much harder?"

"Well, to start; did he give you any guidelines?"

"He told me he expects me to be nice to his friends. He'll make sure they don't try to start anything with me, and if I start something with them; that's it." Draco winced as he realised how difficult that would be. "He also said that he hates bullies."

Pansy snorted. "Draco; has he _met_ you?"

Draco glared at her again. "I'm not a bully!"

Pansy burst into laughter. "Darling," she said between fits of giggles. "I love you. Really, I do. But you're an awful bully. You always have been. I'm not saying that's a bad thing," she held up a placating hand. "Because Merlin knows; I'm one, too. But if he hates bullies, that's bad news for you."

"He said as much," Draco said, glaring at the stone floor as though it had personally offended him. "He said that's why he refused my hand on the Hogwarts' Express."

Pansy stared in surprise. "Oh? What happened? All you ever told me was that he insulted you when you graciously offered him your friendship. And we both know now that Potter wouldn't have taken kindly to your eleven year old self's method of being gracious. I never thought to ask beyond that."

Draco mumbled indistinctly.

Pansy smirked. Clearly, he'd been holding out on her. "I insist you speak up if you want me to keep helping you. And please; tell me _everything_."

Draco cleared his throat. "I… insulted the Weasel."

Pansy's lips twitched. "Oh?"

"He laughed at my name!" sulked Draco.

Pansy smothered a laugh. "What did you say?"

Draco averted his gaze. "I don't remember."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Don't lie to me, Draco. It was your first encounter with Potter. _Of course_ you remember _everything_."

He coughed. "Actually, it was the second."

Pansy straightened. "Really?"

"We met in Madam Malkins, when I was getting fitted for my Hogwarts robes. He came in and stood on the stool beside me, and I thought he was incredibly interesting looking. I liked him at once, so I tried to strike up a conversation with him. Frankly, I think he was my first crush; though I didn't realize that's what it was at the time. I did my best to impress him-"

"No wonder he didn't like you," chuckled Pansy, and he attempted to death-glare her into submission.

"Anyway, he didn't say much, and I didn't get his name before he left. I never saw his scar. When I went looking for Harry Potter on the train and realised that was the boy I'd been talking to in Diagon Alley, I was a little in awe. When I realised he was _the_ Harry Potter, I was scared he'd think he was too good for me. I wanted him to know that I was worthy of being his friend."

Pansy's gaze softened. "And you put your foot in it, didn't you?"

Draco nodded miserably. "I introduced myself, and the Weasel laughed at my name. So I said, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Pansy giggled. It was such an accurate description of the Weasleys; she couldn't help it.

Draco shifted on the bed. "Then I looked at Harry and said, 'You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.' I offered him my hand, and he just said, 'I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.'"

"And so was born a bitter rivalry," smirked Pansy knowingly.

Draco stared at the flagstones moodily. "I was so hurt and angry… I just wanted him to be hurt as bad as I was. Everytime I saw him my chest ached, and when he was laughing and joking with others the way he wouldn't with me I hated them, and hated him for making me feel the way I did."

Pansy walked over and sat down beside him. She put her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. "It must have been hard; especially when you felt you couldn't talk to anyone. It definitely must have been worse when the Dark Lord came back."

"It was awful, Pansy. The most awful I've ever felt; the last two years of the war."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Pansy straightened up and swatted his shoulder. "So, what's your plan? You're going to have to figure out a way to spend time with him, to begin wooing him. It's not like he'll be overly eager to spend time with you right now."

Draco turned to her and smirked. "Oh, really? Well, it just so happens that he asked me to walk with him to Potions after we talked, and we partnered up in class. If you'd taken Potions for NEWTs you would have known that already. What's more; he asked me if I'd be willing to tutor him."

Pansy's jaw dropped. Then she squealed and threw her arms around him. "Draco, that's wonderful!" She pulled back, smiling broadly. "This really might work after all!"

"Of course it will work," Draco drawled. "I'm a Malfoy; we always get what we want." Pansy snorted derisively as he allowed himself a victorious smirk.


	4. Outed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slip-up in the corridors has unintended consequences.

**Chapter 4:** Outed

 **Disclaimer:** Once upon a time, there was a Queen. Her name was J.K.R. Queen J. decided to have children to brighten her existence, and the rest of the world along with her. Two of those children were named Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, and they loved one another very much. But Queen J. cruelly kept them apart. This is an attempt on my part to set things right, and give them the Happily Ever After they so richly deserve.

* * *

 

Harry dragged his feet as Hermione marched him to the Hospital Wing. He scowled as she lectured him.

“Hermione, will you be _quiet?_ ” He shot her a venomous glare. “If you can’t keep quiet, then so help me I will shut you out completely until after this baby is born!”

Hermione stopped, gaping at him. Ron looked almost as shocked as she did.

“Harry!” Hermione looked ready to cry, and Harry’s heart twisted with guilt. But he kept it from his face, needing her to know how upset he was with her if he wanted to keep her from making the same mistake again.

“Hermione, you know that I want to keep this a secret. As my friend, you agreed to respect that. So why, exactly, are you talking about it out in the corridor where anyone could hear you?”

“Oh,” Hermione said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, Harry. I thought I was being quiet.”

Harry sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I know you did, Hermione; but just because you’re being quiet doesn’t mean that no one will overhear something. Just because they won’t hear everything doesn’t mean that they might not hear too much.”

Hermione nodded, looking remorseful. “Alright. I’ll do better in the future; I promise.”

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks, ‘Mione. I’m sorry for threatening you, but I didn’t know how else to get you to take this seriously. I know that you wouldn’t do it on purpose, though. You and Ron are the best friends I could ask for. I’m so lucky to have you guys, and I don’t know how I’d be able to do this without your support.” He tried to project his gratitude in his voice, since he couldn’t hug her.

“It’s what we’re here for, mate,” said Ron, gruffly. He flushed.

Hermione’s hands fluttered as she rocked on her toes, trying to restrain herself from hugging him. “Of course we’re here for you, Harry! And we’ll be there for your baby, too, after he or she gets here!”

“Hermione!” Harry gave her an exasperated look, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Sorry!” She looked contrite, and as Harry peered around he felt relieved to notice that the hall looked empty.

“Hermione, if you can’t keep this a secret, I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey to _Obliviate_ you!” He rolled his eyes so that she wouldn’t think he was serious. “Come on; let’s go before you spill something when there’s someone around to overhear.”

Hermione sighed. “I’ll try to hold my tongue unless I’m in your dorm or the Hospital Wing, then.”

Harry nodded. “Please do.”

* * *

 

Madam Pomfrey cast another diagnostic spell and frowned. “I was afraid of this,” she murmured. A stab of fear shot through Harry’s heart.

“What is it?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “Male pregnancies are so rare that there isn’t a lot of information on them. Not many wizards have the level of power required to carry a pregnancy, and even fewer of those are gay – just like gay wizards make up a minority of the general population. Because of that, it’s been almost three hundred years since the last recorded male pregnancy.”

Harry gaped at her. He’d known it was rare, just not _how_ rare. He cleared his throat. “So, what were you afraid of?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Mr. Potter, from what I understand, male pregnancies sometimes require the support of both parents to avoid miscarriage. Because the pregnancy is supported entirely through magical, rather than natural means, it requires a great deal of magic to sustain the pregnancy. Sometimes more magic then one parent possesses.” She grimaced. “If you can’t find the other father and convince him to help, you might lose the baby.”

Harry paled. “Oh.” He stared at the floor, trying to figure out a way to tell Draco. His head spun and he couldn’t seem to think straight. He didn’t know how to deal with this kind of complication.

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione touched his arm, before pulling back quickly at his hiss of discomfort.

Ron cleared his throat. “That’s rough, mate.”

“What would he have to do?” Harry asked quietly.

“You’d have to have frequent physical contact. Not sex,” she added hastily, looking at their faces. “I mean; that’s an option, but it can be as simple as touches on the arm, or the hand. The baby is trying to draw on an extra reservoir of magic to sustain itself, but the only compatible magic is yours and the other father’s. That’s why everyone else’s touch is painful; your baby is attempting to draw on their magic and rejecting it. It won’t drain your magic, or the other father’s magic to support the pregnancy; not any more than performing a series of spells would. It’ll simply tire you both out a little bit sooner.”  

Harry nodded, relieved. “How much physical contact? How often?”

Madam Pomfrey frowned. “I can’t be sure. I think about five minutes of contact, fifteen times a day should be enough. The longer you maintain contact, the fewer times you’ll need it, but I think that would be sufficient. If you needed more, I can let you know. And of course, skin-to-skin contact works best, though you should be fine with touching his arm over his sleeve.”

“So I don’t have to tell him, as long as we have enough physical contact, right?”

Madam Pomfrey blinked. Harry didn’t look behind him, where his friends were standing, but he was fairly certain that Ron and Hermione looked as incredulous as she did.

“You would be able to arrange that?” asked Madam Pomfrey. She looked so uncertain.

“Didn’t you say the baby’s other father wanted nothing to do with you, Harry?” Hermione sounded reproachful.

“Well, things have changed,” Harry replied. “Not enough for me to be able to feel comfortable telling him about the baby; though maybe that’ll change eventually, I don’t know. But enough that I should be able to get enough contact without having to tell him.”

“May I ask who it is, Mr. Potter?”

Harry stiffened. “I’d rather not say.”

“Since he’s a student here, I’ll have access to his medical records. I want to check if there are any issues that might affect the pregnancy listed in his file,” she explained. “I’d need his permission before I could discuss anything with you, but if I found something that needed to be addressed I would let you know so that you could tell him and get his permission.”

Harry felt trapped, but he understood that she had a reason for asking. He sagged where he sat.

“Harry,” came Hermione’s voice, soft from behind him. “We won’t judge you. No matter who it is.”

“Yeah, mate,” added Ron. “I won’t even kill the wanker, since we need him around for the baby.”

“Even if it’s a Slytherin, Ron?” Harry asked quietly.

There was a pregnant pause, where Ron shifted uncomfortably before Hermione elbowed him. “Even if it’s a Slytherin,” he agreed uneasily.

“Please don’t yell,” Harry said. “I can’t really handle that right now. I know that it was incredibly stupid to sleep with him. I can’t even explain why I did it. I just.” Harry swallowed. “I need my best mate to try not to overreact, if I’m going come clean. If you don’t think you can do that, please leave while I talk to Madam Pomfrey.” He turned and looked Ron in the eye.

Ron smiled weakly. “I’ll try,” he promised.

Harry drew in a fortifying breath, and turned back to Madam Pomfrey. “It’s Draco Malfoy, ma’am.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Madam Pomfrey stared at him blankly, as if waiting for the punchline to the joke.

Behind him, Hermione and Ron made no sound, and Harry was afraid to turn around.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione’s arms were around him, then, squeezing him tight. The sensations caused by her touch were unpleasant, but he gritted his teeth and twisted around, hugging her back. It was worth the unpleasantness just to know that she didn’t judge him.

Ron was just staring blankly, and Harry regarded him with no small amount of fear. The redhead shook himself, and grimaced at Harry. “The ferret, mate? Really?” It came out in a pained sort of whine.

Harry tried to laugh, but the sound got stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry, Ron-“

“You’ve got really bad taste in men, you know that, right?” Ron gave him a half-hearted grin, and Harry laughed in relief.

“Yeah, I know.” His smile faltered. “Believe me, I know.”

“What happened, Harry?” Hermione still hadn’t released him, and he squirmed in her grasp, trying to ease the feeling of _wrongness_ that overwhelmed him from her touch.

He shrugged. “It’s a long story. We were both stupid; though him more than me.”

Ron snorted. “Big surprise there.”

Harry crossed his arms protectively over his chest. “We were going to try dating, but we had a misunderstanding, and I really hurt him without realising it. So he’s spent the last few weeks lashing out at me, instead of _talking_ to me like a normal person.” He rolled his eyes.

“He finally told Parkinson what happened, and apparently she smacked him in the head and told him he was being an idiot. She said that he’d better go apologise to me and mean it; and that if I didn’t want to forgive him it was all his fault.” He grinned. “I never thought I’d actually like Pansy Parkinson!”

Ron burst out laughing and Hermione fought a smile. “He said that?”

Harry chuckled. “Not in so many words; but that was the impression I got. And from the way he groveled, I’m pretty sure that someone hammered it into his head that he’d been both a monumental arse, and monumentally stupid.”

“He _groveled?”_ Hermione’s eyes were wide.

Harry nodded, grinning. “Yeah, he did, actually.”

“Wow.” Ron looked grudgingly impressed. “Never would have thought the ferret had it in him.”

Harry felt warmth spread in his chest as he thought about it. “Yeah. He asked me if we could be friends. He said he understands that it’s asking too much for me to trust him enough to try dating right now, but he wants us to try being friends and go from there.”

“I’m glad, Harry,” said Hermione softly.

“As am I, Mr. Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey, a trifle dryly. “Although I doubt you meant to give me quite that much information.”

Harry blushed.

“I must say, though; considering all the damage you and Mr. Malfoy have done to one another over the years, I think if I hadn’t heard all that I would be even more concerned than I already am. That’s not to say that I’m not still concerned,” she said, glaring. “And I understand why you feel you need to wait before telling him, but I’m glad to hear that the two of you are capable of calling a truce.”

She paused, then grimaced. “Apparently you’re capable of calling a truce long enough to conceive a child, so I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised,” she added.

Harry flushed even darker, and his friends snickered. He glared over his shoulder at them in mock anger. Hermione gave him one last squeeze before releasing him. He couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief, and she winced.

“I’m sorry, Harry; I forgot!”

“It’s alright, ‘Mione. I was just so happy you weren’t angry with me that it was worth it.”

She smiled at him, and Ron went to clap him on the back, only to pull back his hand at the last minute, looking unsure.

Harry grinned. “Mate, I don’t mind if you touch me, as long as you don’t do it too often. I’ll tell you if it bothers me.”

“If you have no other concerns, Mr. Potter, you’re free to go. Though I want to see you in a week to make sure that you’re getting sufficient magic from Mr. Malfoy. You should notice an increased tolerance to being touched by other people as the baby begins to absorb more magic from both of you.”

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry gave her a grateful smile, and was mildly surprised to get a small smile in return.

“The only other thing you’ll need to know is that there are certain potions you’ll need to avoid making during your pregnancy; I’ll provide you with a list, and sign anything you need me to so Professor Slughorn agrees to let you concentrate on the theoretical portion of those lessons only. There are also certain spells that will be too taxing for you later in your pregnancy, so you should avoid those as well.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Yes, well, you can show me how much you appreciate it by not ending up in here unless it’s for your prenatal appointments. Go on, now. Get out of here!” She shooed them, and Harry rose to leave, his friends going with him.

* * *

 

Draco sat at the breakfast table, chatting with Pansy and keeping an eye on the Gryffindor table for a head of messy black hair. He finally spotted it, as Harry and his sidekicks arrived, chatting in low voices. They sat with several other Gryffindors.

Draco noticed that while Weasley and Granger were flanking him, they left a small distance between them. He frowned. Something wasn’t quite right with the Golden Trio, as both of Harry’s best friends were avoiding touching him. He’d have to dig and find out what was wrong.

Harry looked up, and met Draco’s eyes. Draco smiled at him, and Harry gave Draco a small smile back; complete with a blush. Draco tried to stifle his feeling of elation.

The post arrived then, and Draco opened his letter from his mother. As he read about how her reconciliation with his Aunt Andromeda was going, he heard shocked gasps and murmurs running through the Hall.

He looked up, wondering what was going on. Students were pouring over copies of the Prophet, gaping and blatantly staring at Harry. He frowned, wondering what was going on. He’d stopped his subscription to the Prophet when he’d tired of all the horrible things they kept saying about him, despite Harry’s grudging testimony on his behalf.

Beside him, Pansy gasped, putting one hand over her mouth. Her eyes flitted to him, then back to the paper.

“What is it?” Draco had a bad feeling.

Pansy handed him the paper wordlessly.

* * *

 

**HARRY POTTER: BOY-WHO-LIVED A TEENAGE FATHER?**

****Just How Busy Has Our Hero Been Since Defeating You-Know-Who?** **

**By Rita Skeeter**

I know we’d all like to believe our heros are above reproach, but sadly, they’re as human as the rest of us. Never has that been more true than in the case of Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Harry has demonstrated repeatedly over the years that he’s a very troubled boy. His newest escapade, however, has resulted in permanent consequences. A reliable source (who wishes to remain anonymous) has informed the Prophet that the Savior of the wizarding world is going to be a father, despite not having finished school yet.

Our anonymous source said; “I was walking down the hall when I saw Harry and his best friends talking. Hermione Granger (who briefly dated our hero during the Triwizard Tournament) said, ‘Of course we’re here for you, Harry! And we’ll be there for your baby, too, after he or she gets here!’ Then Harry tried to shush her. He was obviously trying to keep it quiet.”

Another student (who also claimed to have witnessed the encounter) stated, “I was completely shocked! Harry seems like such a great guy, yet he’s trying to hush up a pregnancy and won’t even acknowledge the girl publicly!”

While his paramour is rumored to be Miss Ginerva Weasley, we are as yet unable to confirm or deny this claim. Only time will tell the identity of the mysterious girl to capture our Savior’s heart!

* * *

 

Since Rita Skeeter was the author of the piece, Draco held hope that it was all a lie; he couldn’t believe it of Harry. But when he looked up to see Harry’s reaction, he saw that Harry’s face had gone white as a sheet, and he jumped up and ran from the Hall.

Draco felt like he was going to be sick.

He was barely conscious of getting up and running himself. He chased after Harry, calling him.

“Potter! Potter, wait! Harry!”

Harry paused at that, just long enough for Draco to catch up to him, and he caught Harry’s arm before Harry could escape.

“Is it true? Harry, please. Tell me! The article… is it true what they said? You’re going to be a dad?”

He waited for Harry to tell him it was a lie, desperate to hear that no one but him had ever touched Harry. Harry closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to look at Draco.

“It’s true,” he said quietly. “I’m having a baby.”

Draco reached out with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s arm to lean on the stone wall as his world tilted on its axis. Without realising it, his breathing grew quick and shallow.

“Who’s the mother?” he asked softly, staring into Harry’s eyes. Green, green eyes, so dim and pained right now. It hurt to meet Harry’s gaze, but he couldn’t look away.

Harry swallowed. “I’m not ready to tell you yet,” he whispered. “I think I will be, eventually; but not yet. I don’t know if I trust you enough yet.”

That hurt. Draco spoke again, his voice hoarse. “Are you still together?”

Harry looked away. “No.”

Draco nodded dumbly. “Do you want to be?”

Harry was silent for a moment. “It’s complicated,” he said at last. “But… I think so.”

Draco closed his eyes against the wave of pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to scream.

“Are you still going to be my friend? Or are you going to go back on your word and start being an arse again, now that you know?”

Draco forced himself to open his eyes again and meet Harry’s intent gaze. “Just because it hurts doesn’t mean that I’ll abandon you. I promised, and I care about you too much to break that promise.”

Harry’s eyes softened. “Thank you. That… means more than you know.”

Draco tried to force himself to smile. “Congratulations, I guess.”

Harry smiled back; though his smile was a lot more genuine, his eyes warm. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

“You alright?”

Pansy touched Draco’s arm, but he just buried his face deeper into his pillow.

“Draco, please talk to me.”

He turned his head to the side. His eyes were red from the effort of not crying. He looked and felt exhausted, and classes had only just started.

“I’m skipping class today, Pans,” he said. “I need some time.”

Pans nodded. “I’m skipping with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Draco gave her a tired smile. “You’re the best, Pans; you know that?”

She smirked. “Of course I am.” Her face softened. “What happened, Draco? You ran out after Potter, and promptly hid yourself away in here afterwards.”

“It’s true, Pans.” He bit his lip. “He told me that he’s having a baby. He’s not with the baby’s mother, but he said he thinks he’d like to be.” Draco closed his eyes.

“He asked me if I was going to refuse to be his friend again over this, and I said no. I promised him I wouldn’t. But it’s so hard, Pans.” His breath hitched. “Even if he doesn’t get end up dating that girl, he’s still going to be tied to her for the rest of his life. And that _hurts_.”

Draco turned his face back into his pillow. “What hurts the most though is that he wants to date her. He’s having a baby with her and he wants to date her. Next to that I feel so… inconsequential to him.”

Pansy started petting his hair. “Draco, you knew that there was a chance that he would never give you another chance, anyway.”

“Knowing there was a chance of that and hearing it practically confirmed are two different things. And considering that he’s in love with someone else – someone who’s having his baby – I’d say it’s pretty well confirmed.”

“Yes, but… did he say anything about loving her? For all you know, he’s only thinking about dating her because of the baby, since he’s a noble Gryffindor and all that.”

Draco considered this for a moment. As he replayed the conversation in his head, he noticed how careful several of Harry’s statements had been. Some of them he had no idea why, others seemed to support Pansy’s theory.

A small smile curved his lips. Harry had seemed very anxious to keep Draco’s friendship. Perhaps… perhaps Pansy was right.

He allowed himself to be comforted by this thought, and by his best friend petting his hair and murmuring praises to him.

* * *

 

Harry curled up under his covers with the bed hangings drawn and warded. He wasn’t really interested in talking to his friends at the moment. Hermione hadn’t meant to spill his secret, but she had been careless and because of her the whole school knew he was having a baby. They didn’t know who with or that he was the one carrying the baby, but it would be a lot harder to hide now that their scrutiny would be on him.

Not that he wasn’t under scrutiny before, but now everyone would be looking for clues about the mystery identity of the baby’s mother. Harry felt sorry for every girl he would interact with in the future.

He let out a sigh.

Then there was Draco.

Harry had mixed feelings about that.

On the one hand, it would be a good test to see if Draco would really stay his friend even after thinking that he had no chance at a romantic relationship in the future.

On the other, he had seen the pain on Draco’s face when Harry told him he was having a baby, and even more when he learned that Harry was considering dating the other parent of his baby. Harry felt like coming clean and telling Draco everything, if only to keep the pain away.

Harry rolled over and laid on his back. He placed one hand over his abdomen in an unconscious gesture of protection, even though the baby was still too small to give him a bump. He quirked a half-smile, realising that Draco had unknowingly given him enough physical contact to last the entire day.

He sighed, grateful that he wouldn’t have to worry about initiating more physical contact today. It was just one less thing to stress him out.

He didn’t know what to do. Originally, his plan had been to get through the pregnancy without anyone finding out, and keep Draco from ever knowing the truth.

Then things had changed between him and Draco, and he’d been forced to alter his plans. Forced to consider the possibility of telling Draco eventually. That had only been heightened by need to maintain regular physical contact with him throughout the pregnancy.

He’d been determined to hide the pregnancy from the world at large, though. It wasn’t until Hermione’s over-enthusiasm in the corridors had resulted in the fact that he was due to become a father being splashed across the front page of the largest newspaper in the wizarding world that he’d had to consider telling everyone.

How would Draco react, if Harry told him the truth?

How would the wizarding world react, if he told them the truth?

How long could he – and should he – hide his pregnancy?

Harry groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, trying to think.

If he tried to keep it a secret until the end, he would undoubtedly be found out, sooner or later. So the only questions were when to come clean, and how.

Even if his glamours were perfect, what about morning sickness? What about the potions he would be unable to make because of the pregnancy? What about the spells he would be unable to perform?

There were teachers he would have to talk to, about things he would have to avoid for the sake of the baby.

It was just a matter of time before the truth came out.

He wished there was a way to fix things. Unfortunately, things weren’t that simple.

He sighed. He would worry about the rest of it tomorrow. Tomorrow, when he could ask his friends’ opinions and make some decisions. He drew the covers up over himself, burrowing into the blankets and allowing his thoughts to drift as he slowly fell asleep.


End file.
